Grey-Heart
by Charis77
Summary: Children of Honorhall: What if Grelod wasn't killed? Samuel recalls growing up in Honorhall, regrets his mistakes and searches for the girl he thinks can alter his fate.
1. Prologue

A harsh breath cut the air like a knife, the mist of it clouding the young man's vision. He stamped his feet in his hiding place behind a copse of bushes. How long would the groom linger? He sidled closer to the bushes, peering through the branches while crouching. He could see the groom's lantern gleaming in the night as he checked the stalls. _Come on. You want to be inside on this bitter night. Get moving._ The young man blew into his hands. Ridiculous this cold in the north. Stupid to make the trip to Windhelm. Why had he even ventured this way in the first place? He chastised himself. _If you hadn't acted like an idiot, Samuel Grey-Heart, you wouldn't be here, now would you?_

The light moved over and up, heading up the stairs that would lead to the groom's lodging. It disappeared. Samuel counted down from one hundred. ...5...4...3...2...1. He slid around the bushes, still crouched, eyes and ears alert. No noise. No movement. He continued forward. His heart thumped in his chest and he tried to ignore it. He'd stolen things a hundred times over, but he'd never been this nervous. He'd never stolen a horse before. For all he knew, it would neigh and cause a ruckus. But he had no choice. It would be easier to embark on a long journey with a horse as a traveling companion.

He paused at the back of the stable, flush up against it, controlling his breathing. He conjured the front of the stable in his mind. He'd already scoped it out earlier. All he had to do was run up the side, turn the corner, dash into the stall and mount the animal. It had big muscles. He had guessed that meant it was strong and hardy. He'd never ridden a horse, but he figured a large horse had to mean something good.

_Brynjolf would be ashamed of me._ Samuel snorted. Who was he kidding? If Brynjolf saw him he'd skip over shame and just run him through with his jagged dagger. The Guildmaster would have no room for forgiveness, not after what he'd done. _Do it, coward, _Samuel urged himself. He slid along the side wall, confirmed silence and made his move, whirling around to the front and approaching swiftly, but cautiously. His target nickered and backed up as he entered the stall. "Shhhh," he breathed out. "I'm just borrowing you." Something like that, anyway. Fortunately for him, the horse was saddled and ready to ride. He'd known it would be so. He'd observed the wealthy patron that had paid for it this morning and ordered it prepped late into the night.

Samuel approached the horse's side and took a deep breath. He'd seen this done. It couldn't be that hard, could it? He gripped the pommel of the saddle and put his foot in the stirrup. His first try was a disaster. The horse shimmied away and he lost his balance, pitching backwards to the ground. The horse turned its head to him and blew out of its nostrils. Samuel growled at the gelding. "Shut up." He stood, gripped the pommel again, but then froze. Footsteps nearby. He let go the pommel and pressed himself into the back of the stall, crouched down, cloak around him, as still as possible.

A guard came into view, pacing towards the stable. _Curse the divines! _Samuel shouted inside. He should have already been away from here. The guard came closer. Samuel's heart hammered his ribs. If he got caught it would be five years in prison at best, execution for horse thieving at worst. The guard stopped a few yards distant, then turned and walked towards the city wall beside the stable. Samuel heard a stream of liquid hitting the wall. He rolled his eyes. He _would_ steal a horse at the same time the guard had to take a piss! He waited. The guard ambled back by and toward the Windhelm bridge.

Samuel breathed easier. He stood and walked to the side of the horse, who looked back at him again. He eyed it. "Work with me this time, huh?" He sucked in a breath, put his foot in the stirrup and this time pulled harder and thrust himself higher. There. He was up. The animal swayed underneath him and he held onto the pommel. He hated his fear of the beast underneath him. _Don't show it. They know how you feel_. At least, that's what he'd heard. He picked up the reins. He'd been around enough to see riders. He could do this. He just had to get it moving. He dug his heels into the horse. To his dismay, the horse bolted out of the stall. He failed to stifle a surprised cry.

"Who is that? Who's there?" he heard the guard shout as he zoomed past.

He hung onto the saddle for dear life, laying against the horse's neck, the zip of arrows passing over his head and ruffling his unruly hair. He closed his eyes when they hit forest. Branches slapped at his body and face and he felt a sting on his cheek. Finally the horse lost its gallop and stilled. Samuel opened his eyes and listened intently. He heard no sound of pursuit. He sighed and put a hand to his cheek, feeling a slick stickiness. He brought his hand close to his eyes and noted the blackness on his hand—blood. It wasn't a deep cut, but it stung nonetheless. He looked around. Where were they? Windhelm wasn't anywhere in sight. The horse neighed and stamped its hooves, then shook its head. Then it slowly turned around. Apparently without direction it would head home to its warm stables.

"Oh no you don't!" Samuel reprimanded. He gripped the reins, pulling them to the left and turning the horse back. Thank Talos it was well tamed. "You aren't getting away until you've done your job." He tapped the horse's sides with less gusto this time and it moved forward. There. He'd manage to ride just fine.

Samuel glanced up at the sky. Unfortunately, a cloudy night. He had no idea where he was, but he'd find out. Come hell or high water, he'd get to Helgen...and to _her_.


	2. Guild

Samuel cupped his hands beside a brook, relishing the cool, clear water. He drank for a time, then lifted his hands over his head, drenching himself. He wiped at his face and neck, then sighed and laid back on the mossy ground. His stomach rumbled and clenched. "Get used to it," he muttered. He didn't have much left in his knapsack, a few pieces of dried meat, a couple apples and a biscuit. He'd have to make them last until he found more sustenance.

He heard a rustle and rolled his head to the right. The bay horse snacked on grass a few feet away. He'd tied the reins to a tree branch. If he didn't, it would wander off. It was _too_ tame. It put up with him, but it's heart was honed in on home.

Samuel narrowed his eyes at the horse. If only he could eat grass. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes in the warm sun. Even the gelding had a home, he thought ruefully. Not him. He'd never had a home, not really. He'd grown up in Honorhall Orphanage in Riften, but he would never call it home. Still, he'd met _her_ there.

Samuel ran a hand over his eyes. He wondered what she'd look like. She was so thin and bony last he'd seen her. It had been nine years. She would be a woman by now, with a woman's curves. Samuel grimaced. What did it matter what she looked like? What mattered more is what she would think of him. After all, he'd become a thief and then he'd failed even that.

Samuel hit the ground with a fist. It had been years since he'd lived at Honorhall. He'd forgotten it, or at least, he'd thought he had. And then it popped back up again and it cost him the only place he'd once considered as close to a home as he'd ever had—the Ragged Flagon of the Thieves Guild. He'd had friends there, comrades and a mentor. "You blew it," he spoke aloud. "You have no one to blame but yourself."...

* * *

At the age of sixteen, when he'd been thrown out of the orphanage to face the "harsh reality of the world" as Grelod put it, he'd done the only thing he knew how to do to survive—pickpocketing. He was pretty good at it. He'd sneaked out of the orphanage over the years to mingle in the city center and hone his trade. With this skill, he managed to keep himself fed at the least. He had no home, nowhere to go, and spent a couple weeks holed up in empty alcoves, a dirty blanket he'd found pulled around him for what warmth he could get. It was in one of these alcoves that his life changed for the better.

He'd wrapped himself tightly, the hour quite late. As he drifted off to sleep he contemplated. He'd been thinking that living on the streets wasn't as fun or freeing as he thought it would be. He'd thought it would be better than living at the orphanage with its cruel mistress. It was better in that at least the threat of beating didn't loom over him all the time. But it wasn't any fun with no shelter and no guarantee of at least one meal a day. He'd need to find some way to shelter himself, maybe find work somewhere.

Samuel groaned when he felt the wind pick up and a couple droplets on his face. A rainy night. He hated them. He'd spend the night cold and drenched. He'd get little sleep. But there was nothing for it. He tried to quiet his mind as the droplets became a downpour. He shivered, wishing for his filthy orphanage bed if only for one night.

"Hey!" A toe poked him in his side. "This is no night to sleep like this."

Samuel opened his eyes and shielded them against the rain with a hand, looking up at a man he'd seen in the city center, a merchant. He'd never tried to rob this one. Something had felt wrong about it. "Leave off!" he grumbled, twisting around into the alcove. He wouldn't have been here if he could help it.

"I'm offering you shelter, lad."

Samuel craned his neck back to look at the man. He wore a hooded cloak, but his face was visible. Samuel tried to read his green eyes. Could he trust this man?

"I guess you _want_ to be out here. Forget my offer." The man turned and ambled away down the street.

Samuel blinked his eyes against the rain, considering the man's back. What did he have to lose? He stood and ran to catch up to the man, carrying his dirty blanket with him. He matched the man's stride, keeping parallel to him. The man turned his head and smiled knowingly at him. He reached out and took the blanket. "You don't need that. We'll get you a better one." He threw it over the side of a railing and Samuel watched as the blanket hit the water and bobbed on the rough waves.

"Keep up."

Samuel strode quickly to join the man again. He followed him down a flight of stairs to the underside of Riften. The man paused at a door, took out a key and unlocked it. He stood aside so Samuel could enter first. Samuel hesitated a moment, but figured he had gone this far, he might as well see this to its end. He stepped inside. It was pitch black. He heard the man enter after him and the sounds of rain muffled as the door shut. The man's footsteps paced passed him and farther inside, then stopped. A few more seconds and a lantern poured its light into a small room with two chairs and a table. There was another room to the right and Samuel spied a bed, a side table and a chest.

"Come," the man commanded, walking to the other room. Samuel followed. The man threw off his cloak and shook his long reddish hair. He opened the chest and dug around for a few moments, then stood and threw a pair of pants and shirt to Samuel. "You can change into those." The man stomped back out to the other room.

Samuel walked to a corner so he couldn't be seen from the other room and changed as quickly as he could. The pants and shirt were too big, but he didn't care. They were dry. When he walked back into the main room the man had lit a fire in a fireplace and was cutting vegetables into a pot already filled with water while sitting on a stool. Samuel approached the table, already set with a couple bowls, and sat down. He stared at the man, his lips a hard line. Why was the man doing this? There had to be a reason.

After the man finished cutting the vegetables and stirred the pot for a time, he stood, walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a couple bottles, then sat down across from Samuel. He pushed one of the bottles over to him. "Drink."

Samuel took the bottle in his hand, weighing it and contemplating it. He knew what it was—ale. But he'd never had it. Still, he didn't want this man to think he was a weakling. He uncorked it and took a large gulp. His throat felt afire and he gasped, spluttered and coughed. The man laughed.

"First strong drink?"

Samuel glared him.

"Nothing to be ashamed of. A man has to start somewhere." The man sipped his own ale and nodded to Samuel who followed suit. It was easier as he took it slowly and it did warm him.

Samuel set the bottle on the table. "What do you want with me?"

The man shrugged. "Awful night to be out there. I figured I'd earn Mara's blessing, take pity on a poor soul."

Samuel narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

The man stared, then laughed again. "Yes. I lied. Not that I didn't want to help you out, but I do have another reason."

"Well, what is it?"

The man smiled at him. "You're the right type, though you'll need some molding."

Samuel scowled at him. "Speak straight."

The man leaned into the table, meeting him eye to eye. "I let you get away with insolence now, but it won't be tolerated if you join us." Samuel cocked his head as the man leaned back in his chair and for the first time noticed a jagged scar on the man's left cheek. "I've been watching you." The man pointed at him with his ale bottle. "Since you were a child in that godforsaken orphanage."

Samuel felt uncomfortable with the knowledge he'd been watched. "How long have you been spying on me?"

"It wasn't spying, lad," the man said, taking another swig of his ale. "You came out onto the streets to gain a little coin, things to sell...from other people's pockets."

Samuel shifted in his seat. He was sure he'd never robbed this man.

"I was most impressed when you managed to relieve Ingun Black-Briar of her family ring."

Samuel blinked his eyes. Yeah, he remembered that, too, and why he'd done something so dangerous. But he hadn't known it was her family ring.

"Her fault," the man went on. "She took it off after an argument. Shouldn't have set something that valuable in a pocket. Point is, you're good. I've been waiting until that monster of a mistress let you out. Watched you the last two weeks to see how you'd fare. You're good, but you could do better."

Samuel fingered his ale bottle. "You want to teach me?"

"I offer myself as your mentor...but you'll have to make a vow."

"What kind?"

"Well...it's not just me, you see. I'm part of a guild."

Samuel''s eyes widened, suddenly understanding. "Thieves Guild." Of course, it was headquartered in Riften.

The man sat back in his chair. "Might be. You'll find out if you're willing to take the vow. If you do, I promise you shelter, good food, a bed and a lifetime of learning to do what you do even better."

Samuel spoke quietly. "What do I have to vow?"

"Absolute loyalty to members. Following the rules. Accepting the consequences if you break them. That sort of thing."

Samuel stared at the man. He didn't have to think long. He had no other skill. If he went it on his own he'd end up starving most of the time. If he accepted this man's offer, he'd have a shelter and a future. "I'll take the vow."

The man smiled. "I thought you would." He reached out his hand to Samuel who took it in a handshake. "Name's Brynjolf."

"Samuel," Samuel said, shaking the man's hand...

* * *

Samuel situated himself on the gelding again and took to the road. He'd found a traveler midday who sent him in the direction of Helgen. Actually, he'd been afraid to ask anyone. It had been six months since he'd left the Guild, but he still expected them to send someone after him to haul him back and throw him at Brynjolf's feet. Samuel clenched the reins tightly, causing the horse to stop. He loosened his grip and tapped the horse's sides. He still hated himself for messing up. For paying back all Brynjolf's aid with failure...

* * *

As it turned out, Brynjolf wasn't just a member of the Thieves Guild; he was the Guildmaster. As such, once Samuel had spoken the vow in The Ragged Flagon, he had been accepted immediately. Brynjolf began to teach him all he knew, training him mainly in thievery techniques; others taught him skill with a dagger and a bow, Rune and Niruin respectfully.

So Samuel grew into a young man in the company of thieves. He had a warm bed every night, good food at a table and companions to laugh with. Most of the time the Guild hummed along smoothly. Every so often a member would break a rule. Usually Brynjolf dealt with the member privately. Only once had the Guildmaster called a public court. Samuel had been proud at that moment. A pox on everyone in Skyrim who thought the Guild had no honor. They had a code and they followed it. This particular member had failed at three missions and been seen in the last. Brynjolf's highest rule was not being seen. Second was not murdering a victim. Thieves, Brynjolf said, stayed in the shadows. That was how the Guild kept its reputation and patrons. The member was convicted, beaten and exiled. Brynjolf didn't show mercy. He said you showed it once and you'd sow immediate dissension in the Guild.

Slowly Samuel moved up in the Guild, though not fast enough for his taste. For quite a time he felt more like a mascot than a member. Everyone was friendly, but none were as young as he and they routinely made mention of his youth. It didn't help that Brynjolf teased him often. Samuel had demonstrated a bit of questionable morality, openly questioning the rightness of stealing from certain victims. Brynjolf thought it funny that he tried to distinguish between which jobs were right and which were wrong. They were jobs, plain and simple. And anyway, he'd said, "If you steal from one, you might as well steal from the other. It's the same, stealing, no matter who you're stealing from." It was Brynjolf that had given him a last name, jokingly calling him Grey-Heart, indicating Samuel's moral conflict. The Guild members had taken the name up, often calling him simply Grey-Heart. And although Samuel didn't really mind, his ambiguous heart held him back. Brynjolf said he didn't want him on an official job until his mind was set one way.

Two years ago, Samuel had insisted he was ready. He'd kept control of his mouth, not questioning any missions the Guild was handed. Brynjolf agreed. He'd sent Samuel to Delvin who tested thieves with stealing various minor objects. Samuel had stolen for Delvin for more than a year. One day he'd gotten tired of it and begged Brynjolf to let him go for something big. "If you don't send me, you aren't as good of a teacher as you think you are," Samuel had quipped. Brynjolf had stared him down. He didn't like to be provoked. But then he'd cracked a smile. He'd always liked Samuel's direct way. He said he'd find a big job perfect for Samuel. And so he had six months ago. He'd tasked him with a job for a client who wanted a particularly valuable silver platter. Samuel had balked. A platter? How ridiculous. But Brynjolf had chastised him. "The worth in this one doesn't come from the cost." "What then?" Samuel had wondered. "None of your business," was Brynjolf's reply. It was a job and you were given it, no questions asked. Samuel accepted.

And so he had found himself in Eastmarch several weeks later, silently picking the lock of a mansion, a memorized floor plan guiding him as he sneaked through it at night. He'd entered through the basement in the night hours of the morning. The client said this so-called valuable platter was tacked to the wall of the dining room. He climbed the stairs, his boots as silent as a cat's tread. He listened, then exited slowly. The moonlight streaming through a window provided the light he needed to navigate by. He passed through the kitchen and into the dining room. The platter glinted in the moonlight. Samuel smirked. _This_ was a big job? This was nothing. He'd be in and out in less than five minutes. He paced up to the wall and stared at himself in the well-shined platter. He cocked his head, amused at the young man with unruly long hair and several days growth of beard. He liked the roguish smile that he shared with his reflection. _Get going_. He hefted the platter off the wall. It was large and heavy. Brynjolf said it had to be protected, so Samuel had brought along a bag. He stuffed it inside, set it under his arm and turned to exit back to the kitchen.

A sudden cry halted his steps. His nerves had been steel; now his blood raced. He swallowed and gradually turned. Another cry, followed by a shout. The dining room door was cracked open, but no one had entered. He was safe. It must be an argument of some kind. All the better for his escape. He began to turn, but then heard an all too familiar sound, followed by a cry of anguish. His heart pumped. _Leave now!_ his better sense shouted. He didn't heed it.

Samuel crept forward and peeked through the sliver afforded by the cracked door. He gazed out on a hallway. Directly across was another room, a living area. A large man was pacing back and forth in it and shouting. "Worthless. That's what you are. You should have died the day you were born!" Samuel's eyes left the man, drawn to the cowering figure on the floor, a boy of no more than eight curled up in a ball.

"Please, papa, please..."

"Begging! You have no strength, craven!" The man stopped pacing. Samuel felt like he couldn't breathe as he watched the man raise up a belt then bring it crashing down on the child. The boy yelped and whimpered. Samuel's fists clenched.

"Papa, I won't do it again! I promise!"

"A _man_ welcomes his punishment!" The man let loose now, the belt connecting with the boy's body in rapid succession. The child howled and covered his head.

Samuel blinked as anger rose inside him. He knew what it was like to be a child in the hands of a savage adult. He hadn't thought about his own pain in years, but standing there watching the scene unfolding before him, it all came back fresh. He dropped the platter.

The man's tirade paused as his head snapped towards the dining room. "What was that?"

Before the man could put a step towards the hallway, Samuel came flying out of the dining room. He didn't remember much of it, only a jumble of images—the shock on the man's face, the thuds of his fists connecting with the man's stomach and head, the blood that splattered as he kept at it and then the child's terrified cries. That's what had stopped him. He'd released the man and turned to the child wide-eyed with fear. Samuel stepped towards him, but the child screamed and crawled away.

Samuel came to his senses. He looked down at the man, bloodied and bruised, nose broken, but eyes open. Samuel's hand jerked to his face. His kerchief and hood were down. He'd been seen. He'd broken Brynjolf's cardinal rule. His hand whipped to his side and his dagger. No, if he did that, then he'd broken both of Brynjolf's rules. Samuel dashed back across the hall to the dining room, snapping up the bagged platter and clattering his way through the kitchen, down into the cellar and out the door. As he ran he heard the servants calling out, woken from sleep by their master's cries.

"Thief!" someone called. By the direction of the sound, someone had seen him from an upper window.

He'd run for some time, only stopping when he was well outside the town and covered by darkness and trees. He'd sunk to the ground, chest heaving. He eyed the bag he had dropped, then angrily kicked it. He'd failed. The news would travel. Brynjolf had ears all over Skyrim. He probably wouldn't even get back to the Guild before Brynjolf would know. Not only had he been seen, he'd beaten the target almost to death. Samuel covered his face with his hands. They'd call a public court. He'd be shamed. It wouldn't matter that Brynjolf had chosen him; actually, that would make it worse. Brynjolf came down even heavier on members he'd picked to show he played no favorites. He'd walk away and let the Guild take out its anger, beating Samuel to a pulp. Then he'd be thrown out and disowned.

Samuel beat the ground with his fists. He had no choice. He couldn't go back. He'd have to flee...

* * *

Samuel paused as he sighted a town in the distance. Not Helgen. He had farther to go for that. But maybe he could find shelter for the night. He pushed the gelding on. His grey heart had been his downfall. If he'd had the steadfast heart of Brynjolf, he would have been out with the goods and no one the wiser. Curse Honorhall and the witch that ruled it! He'd silenced those memories long ago. Why did they have to come back?

_But I didn't forget her._ Samuel rose in his seat. Yes. Without Honorhall he would have succeeded, but then he wouldn't have met her. He couldn't change what he'd done. He'd failed Brynjolf. But if he found her, maybe he could salvage what was left of his failure of a life.


	3. Runa

Samuel crept softly up to the edge of a fence, crouched with his knapsack in hand. The farmers had just taken a break from work and retreated into their homestead. Samuel's stomach growled. A week of travel and he was hungry for more than scraps. He peeked through the low lying fence posts to make sure he was alone, then hopped the fence. He dug into the earth pulling out carrots, potatoes, leeks, onions and cabbage, stuffing them into his knapsack. He'd killed his share of rabbits in the last week, but he needed more to be satisfied. Once his bag was full, he bolted back to the fence, leaping over it and careening back into the woods. Several yards in he found the placid gelding where he'd tied him to a tree. He undid the horse's bonds, mounted and turned him back to the road.

"Success," Samuel crowed. "Stew tonight."

He smiled at himself, but his delight soon faded as the horse trotted along. The memories that had been awoken the fateful night of his failed robbery had continued to plague him. He remembered now how Grelod only let them have one meal a day, so he'd gotten good at stealing from the larder and covering his tracks. He'd found a family of rats and let them loose inside the orphanage so they would take the blame.

Take the blame. The phrase brought up memories of her, a time of confusion for him and what he thought at the time was his utter stupidity...

* * *

Honorhall Orphanage and the streets of Riften were the only life Samuel knew. He'd never met his parents. Grelod told him his mother worked at the orphanage, but died when he was born. She also told him he was lucky a townswoman had been willing to suckle him or he'd have died, too. She made it sound like he should have been grateful to her for the fact he lived, but Samuel saw right through her. He had little doubt if a townswoman hadn't pitied him, Grelod would have been the author of his demise, tossing him into the streets to die.

Samuel had seen both children and helpers come and go in the orphanage, but one person remained constant—the orphanage's mistress, Grelod. The woman was miserable and wicked. Fate had dealt him a life of beatings and berating at her hands. He responded by pretending not to care.

When he was ten, a new child arrived, a girl. There hadn't been a girl in a while. He'd been in the larder sneaking food when she'd arrived. The door to the orphanage had opened and someone stepped inside calling out, "Hello! Hello? Is someone here?" Samuel peeked around the door frame. A woman with gray hair was craning her neck every which way. The girl stood next to her. Samuel tilted his head as he considered her. She was close to his age, maybe a year younger. She looked so...sad. Her head drooped, dejected. He sighed. Such was the life of the orphan. He wandered out into the dining area.

"Grelod's not here."

"She's the owner here?" the old woman asked.

Samuel nodded.

"When will she be back?"

Samuel shrugged his shoulders. Grelod didn't often leave the orphanage, but when she did she stayed away for hours at a time. He didn't mind. Gave him time to hone his skills and eat as much as he could. Course, she only went out when she knew she didn't have escapees on her hands. At this time, there was only him and Hroar and neither of them were going anywhere for the simple reason they had no where to go to.

"Well, I don't have time to wait." The woman shoved the girl in the back and towards Samuel. "She's staying here now."

"But..."

Before he could protest, the woman turned and tromped back to the entrance and out. Samuel bit into the apple he'd stolen. Grelod wouldn't like this. She hated kids and to have another one dropped on her doorstep without warning wasn't good. He chewed thoughtfully.

"You want to eat?" he asked, holding out his half chewed apple.

The girl shook her head, but didn't look up. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"You can sit."

The girl plodded to the table, set a small bag down on it and plunked onto the bench. Samuel took another bite of apple. She didn't look like she was going to make it here for long. He chewed and swallowed. "Grelod doesn't like new kids."

The girl raised her head enough that he could see her eyes. He thought he'd see tears. Girls cried a lot. That was his experience anyway. Instead he saw defiance. "So?" she challenged.

Samuel lowered the apple and put his hands on his hips. "So she isn't going to like you."

"No one does. I'm used to it."

Samuel raised his eyebrows. Great. Stuck with the girl no one liked. "Yeah, well, Grelod'll hate you more."

"I don't care," the girl declared.

Samuel walked right up to the side of the table, staring down at her. "You'd better. I'm guessing she'll beat you right off."

The girl's head snapped up at him, her eyes still defiant, but he saw the hint of fear. He turned on his heel and went back into the main room. Grelod probably wouldn't really, but he took a bit of pleasure in worrying the new kids.

An hour later Samuel heard the door open and the crone's voice. "Who are you?" The girl had stayed put at the table. He crept up to the wall just outside the dining area to listen.

"Runa Fair-Shield."

"What are you doing here?"

"Katryn brought me. She said I had to live here."

"Who?"

"Katryn. She took care of me."

"Leave."

"Uh..."

"I said, 'leave!'"

"I...I can't. Katryn's gone."

"Gone? She just left you here without consulting me?"

"She said she had to hurry."

Grelod let out a cry of exasperation. "Another brat. More gutter trash. Get up. In here."

Samuel backtracked to his bed, laying down on it as if he slept. Hroar actually was asleep in the bed to his left. He heard Grelod's heavy footsteps and the girl's lighter ones enter the room. "You'll sleep here." So, the girl would sleep in the bed to his right. "Give me your bag." Samuel heard rustling as Grelod combed through the girl's belongings. "You can't have this."

"But...it was my mother's."

"Books aren't allowed here."

"But..."

"I have one rule!" Grelod shouted. "I'm in charge and you obey and if you don't, you suffer the consequences. Do you understand?"

"You can't take it! It's not yours!"

Samuel cringed before he even heard the slap, anticipating Grelod's response to the girl's defiance. The girl gasped.

"Consequences," Grelod grumbled. "The book goes." Samuel heard Grelod's footsteps heading towards the fireplace.

"No!" the girl shouted out.

Hroar stirred. The argument was waking him. Samuel opened his eyes and shifted to get a better view of the fireplace across from his bed. The girl was running up to Grelod. He was shocked when the girl pushed Grelod and snatched the book out of her hand. He braced himself. He hadn't been serious about Grelod beating the girl immediately. Now it was unavoidable.

Grelod gripped a handful of the girl's hair and yanked hard. The girl screeched. Hroar came fully awake next to Samuel and looked over at him, then to the fireplace, then back to Samuel. They shared a gaze of understanding. Another child, another beating. Hroar folded his arms tightly into his chest. Even after a year, he couldn't watch the beatings. Samuel didn't like to watch them, but he'd gotten used to them. They were a way of life.

Grelod and the girl grappled over the book, but the struggle was brief. Grelod wrenched the book from the girl's hands and chucked it into the fire.

"No!" the girl cried out again. Grelod released her and the girl crumpled to the floor, shaking with tears. Samuel watched Grelod march to her room. He'd seen this a million times, and usually it meant nothing to him, but seeing the girl pitiful like that, her book destroyed, maybe the only thing she had from her family, he felt different, like he wanted to stop what he couldn't.

Grelod returned brandishing a leather belt. Samuel pressed his lips together, eyes on the weeping girl. As the hag jerked the girl up from the floor by her arm and headed back towards her bed, Samuel laid his head back down, turned away from the girl's bed. He saw that Hroar's eyes were shut tight.

"You're going to be trouble, are you?" Grelod growled. "Well, we'll get the trouble out of you right now."

Samuel heard the thwack of the belt as it connected with the girl. The girl cried out. Samuel grit his teeth. What was wrong with this girl? Was she so stupid she hadn't seen that Grelod meant what she said? Another impact, another cry. And another and another. Samuel counted—twelve in all. The girl sobbed.

"Get into that bed. Now!"

Samuel heard the rustling of sheets. The girl had been cowed.

"You'll stay there the rest of the day. You won't get out until _I_ say. Do you understand?"

The girl's answer came out inside a sob. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

The girl's voice quavered. "Yes...Mistress Grelod."

Grelod's footsteps retreated to her bedroom and her door slammed shut. The girl cried for some time, then the noise lessened and finally ceased. Samuel rolled over. The girl faced him. She had fallen asleep. He traced the tear streaks on her cheeks and noted the redness from Grelod's slap. Her blonde hair had come unfurled from her ponytail, probably during the struggle with Grelod. Samuel felt strange as he looked on her. Children had come and gone for years, but something was different about this one. This Runa Fair-Shield, for some reason he felt _concerned_ about her.

Samuel pursed his lips. She was just a girl. And she was weak and half-witted to boot. He rolled back over and closed his eyes. What did he care if she got the belt? Didn't they all? But an odd thought had come to him. He was glad she slept. That for a moment she could forget the hellhole she'd just been dumped in...

* * *

Samuel stirred the vegetables and rabbit meat in a small pot. He'd found an inn along the way and the innkeeper had agreed to let him use his cooking supplies for a bit of coin. Samuel's stomach growled. He was ready to eat more than thinly roasted rabbit. Few people occupied the wayside inn, but across the way a bard was playing a somber tune. He stared into the swirling liquid at the vegetables and meat bobbing about, the music making him thoughtful. Would Runa even still live in Helgen? He subconsciously stirred faster. She had better. He couldn't have done all those stupid things for her for nothing...

* * *

Samuel had been wrong. Runa didn't fold like he'd expected her to. In fact, he found her stubborn and strong. It was annoying at times. She declared after two weeks that Samuel was a bully and he needed to stop making her do his chores. He'd glared at her and threatened that she'd better or he'd snitch to Grelod that she had a book hidden under her bed. That had changed her tune. He'd seen a woman in the market give it to her and knew Runa had hidden it. Course, she didn't know he wouldn't have told on her no matter what. He wouldn't give anyone into the hag's hands. But he'd also gotten good at exploiting the newest orphans, using their fear to his advantage. And so he did the same to Runa, but instead of submitting to him willingly, she found ways to get him back like sweeping trash under his bed, giving him the plate she'd "forgotten" to clean thoroughly at lunch and worst of all, catching and turning out his rat family.

Samuel stewed over her resilience. She was the dumbest girl to ever come there, he decided and yet he kept staring at her sleeping every night and worrying over her. Every time Grelod gave her a beating, he flinched. His anger had awoken from its slumber. He'd long ago suppressed his anger at the abusive woman, but now he hated her more than ever. He felt enraged every time she placed a hand on Runa and he didn't understand why. And he certainly didn't understand why he'd stood in Runa's place one day.

It shouldn't have been a big deal, but Grelod was in a really bad mood. She was always in a bad mood, but this was a day fire lit her eyes. It had been raining all week and they'd been stuck inside. Grelod didn't like putting orphans out in the courtyard in rain because then they got wet and she hated their "stink." But after a week the crone hadn't been able to take their noise anymore. She made them go out into the courtyard for an hour. They'd huddled together, trying to get any warmth they could in the bitter cold. Samuel had made Hroar sit on Runa's right and he on her left. She was a girl after all. She'd get colder faster than they would.

Sitting there feeling her shiver next to him, he'd put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. He felt an odd sensation in his stomach, like butterflies fluttered inside it. Runa had pressed into him, forced close to him to stay warm. Finally Grelod had let them back in, then retreated to her room again, shutting herself away.

Runa had stared the boys down. "Go in there." She pointed to the assistant's room which was currently unoccupied. No one had wanted to help Grelod in four years.

Samuel snorted at her. "We aren't going to look."

"I don't care. But _I'm_ a girl and if you're men, you'll leave me alone."

Samuel gritted his teeth, but grabbed Hroar's arm, pulling him into the assistant's room. "Fine. Just this once."

Samuel sighed as he turned away from Hroar and the two got out of their wet clothes. Runa would be doing the same in the main room. He draped his clothes over the headboard and footboard of the bed in the room and set his soaked shoes next to it. Hroar put his clothes over a chair and shoved his shoes under it. Samuel paced to the door frame, calling out, "We don't have anything to wear!"

To his surprise, a hand thrust itself around the frame. "Here." He grabbed a bundle of clothes, dry ones from his and Hroar's chest. Each orphan was only allowed two sets of clothes and he had to take care of them on his own. Grelod wouldn't repair any tears or wash them.

He and Hroar dressed. When they exited the room, Runa was setting the table with plates. She glanced up. "Grelod says get lunch."

Samuel tipped his chin up. "Yeah, well, she told you, so do it." He strode back into the main room, ignoring Runa's scowl, and gratefully climbed into his bed, wrapping his covers tightly to keep out the chill. He heard Hroar hurry over to his own bed and saw him pick up a bunch of string to play cat's cradle. Runa's angry stomps echoed into the main room as she paced between the dining table and the larder. She calmed after a time and he heard a low humming. He could imagine her making something inside the larder, her brow furrowed as it often was when she set herself to a task. His stomach fluttered again.

Grelod's door opened. He peered at the crone from his sheets as she made to cross the room, but before she took more than a few steps, she froze and then turned to the boys in their beds. "_Who_ did that?" Her voice was low and dangerous and she pointed towards the fire.

Samuel pushed himself up on an elbow to look. His heart sank. Runa had laid her clothes over the bar that held the cooking pot to dry them near the fire. It would have been a sensible action in any other place but Honorhall. Grelod forbid the orphans to do so, saying it made their stink worse and filled the orphanage. But Runa hadn't known that. She couldn't be blamed for it. But he knew Grelod would. Her eyes flashed as she strode to the bar, picked the clothes up, ran an eye over them and threw them to the floor. Her head swiveled towards the oblivious humming coming from the larder.

Samuel didn't know what came over him, but he was suddenly on his feet and proclaiming, "I did it! We were wet and she's a girl and she needs dry clothes and..."

Grelod stalked over to him, eyes deadly. "_You_ did this?"

Samuel swallowed but nodded.

Grelod grabbed his ear and pulled up hard. He grunted. "Wretched oaf! Pathetic trash!" She dragged him along by his ear to the punishment room and threw him inside. He scrambled to his feet and turned to face the woman he'd known all his life. "You couldn't last six months," she grumbled, punching a fist into her hand.

Samuel understood. He didn't get punished often these days. He knew how to keep her appeased and avoid her. And she got more delight in doling out pain on the newest orphans. He hadn't been at her mercy in several months.

Grelod mocked him. "Had to help the poor little girl, eh? Had to dry her clothes? You're getting soft, suckling." She called him that when she was really angry, suckling, a reminder he had belonged to her since he was born. She entered the punishment room and snatched up a long rod propped up in a corner. Samuel firmed his lips, steeling himself. He'd felt the sting of the switch before. Runa hadn't.

"On the floor," Grelod commanded.

Samuel sunk to his knees and lay down on his stomach. Long ago he'd learned the secret to getting through Grelod's punishments—do what she said as fast as able and they would be over quicker. Resist her and the punishment would be worse than you could imagine.

He felt Grelod's hands on his ankles and cool air as she rolled his pant's legs up. Samuel folded his arms, one on top of the other, and rested his head on them, closing his eyes, knowing what was coming. When his calves were exposed, he heard her step back. He grit his teeth. The switch came whistling down on the back of his legs. He groaned. It came down again, harder. His chin quavered. She kept on, stroke after stroke. He broke down, tears unleashed, moaning as his legs flamed into a roaring fire. He wanted nothing more than to crawl away from her, but he forced himself to remain still. _It'll end. It has to. She has to stop. _Finally, she stopped hitting his legs. He drew in a shaky breath through his crying. It was over...but it wasn't.

He heard the whistle again and the rod connected with the bottom of his left foot. He yelped loudly and his knee jerked up reflexively. He felt Grelod's iron grip on his ankle, pulling his leg back down. He clenched his arms tightly. She'd never done this to him before. His foot throbbed. She hit the other one. His toes curled, but he forced himself to keep his legs straight. She hit each foot five more times and he cried out with each stroke. He heard her footsteps pace up to his head, then a rustle of her dress and a voice in his ear. "Trash. You'll never be anything more than worthless trash." She walked away and the door to the punishment room shut. He heard the key turn in the lock.

Samuel shook and pushed himself up with his hands. He couldn't stand. He bent his knees and reached out to his feet. A slight touch and they screamed in protest. He lay back down. No use moving right now. At least she'd left him alone. He breathed slowly, recovering from the adrenaline rush of fear.

_You're dumb, Samuel, _he berated himself._ Stupid, that's what you are._

Grelod left him in the room until the next day. When the door cracked open, the old woman walked in, hands crossed over her chest. "Get up."

Samuel slowly stood. He'd tested himself out earlier. He could stand and walk, though his right foot still hurt a bit. He guessed it had bruised. He hadn't been able to see it in the dark.

"Out to the yard. Pull the weeds."

Samuel moved gingerly passed Grelod, limping on his right foot. He noted Hroar and Runa sitting at the dining room table, but kept his eyes on the courtyard door. He pushed it open and stepped down onto spongy ground still retaining rain water. He walked to a bucket, turned it upside down and sat down. He was still barefoot. He hadn't dared stop to pick up his shoes. He pulled up his right foot to get a look at it. Yep. One large bruise covering his arch and another below it crossing his foot. He glanced at his left foot. Minor bruising, little patches here and there. He looked tiredly around the courtyard. He'd better get pulling. If he didn't have anything to show later, he'd be back in the punishment room for another round.

He knelt and crawled on the ground for quite a long time, the knees of his pants becoming soggy and dirty as they absorbed water from the ground. He had built an impressive pile of weeds by the time he heard the courtyard door open. Hopefully it would be enough for Grelod. He turned, ready to be evaluated, but blinked when he saw it wasn't her. It was Runa. He turned away abruptly and went back to pulling weeds. He heard her walk across the courtyard and sit down on the bucket. He tried to ignore her, but he could feel her staring at him. After a few minutes, she spoke quietly. "Hroar told me what happened."

Samuel grasped a particularly stubborn weed and pulled hard, satisfied by the ripping sound as it left the earth. He added it to the pile.

"It was my fault."

Samuel grasped another weed, clenching his jaw. He pulled it out and threw it on the pile.

"Samuel...your feet..."

He felt a warm hand cover his right foot. He jerked it away and turned, sitting down on the ground. "Don't touch me!"

Runa pulled her hand back. "I'm...sorry."

"And don't come near me again."

Runa stared at him. "I just wanted to tell you no one's ever done something like that for me and thank you!"

"Yeah, well," Samuel turned back around, grasping a whole slew of plants in his hands, not caring if they were grass or weed. "I won't do it again, so you'd better stop acting like an idiot."

"I didn't ask you to do it!" Runa shouted.

Samuel felt that infernal flipping of his stomach again. He twisted his head back to look at her. Her chestnut eyes had turned angry. "Dumb girl. That's what you are. Just a dumb girl."

Runa snarled. "Well, you're nothing but a snake-breath boy!" She stomped back to the door and into the orphanage.

Samuel let go the plants held tightly in his grasp and sat down again, arms propped up on his knees. He worried his lip. Why had he said that stuff? He put his head in his hands. Nothing made sense anymore. He was too confused to think.

Weeds. He went back to all fours, rooting out the unwanted plants with angry yanks...

* * *

Samuel sat beside a warm fire, content in the dim inn. He'd been left alone and he liked it that way. He finished spooning the rest of his stew into his mouth. It hadn't had much flavor, but it was better than anything he'd had in a while. He leaned back in his chair, eyes drooping. As his head bowed, a face appeared before him, Runa as the child he'd known, the girl that at the time he'd decided was an idiot who made him do stupid things.

He'd unintentionally yelled at her the day after he made himself her stand-in. But he'd made it up to her later by doing something even more senseless than getting himself punished for her.


	4. Fallout

Samuel yawned. He glanced far down the road. Why did Helgen have to be so far away, on the other side of the Greybeards' mountain? He hadn't traveled much in his lifetime, only when he was sent on missions by the Thieves Guild, but until his failed mission, they'd only been in the Rift. He didn't understand why people wandered. He'd met several people on the roads with no particular destination. He wanted to just find somewhere to settle down. He had thought it would be the Guild, but all that had changed when he failed.

Samuel saw another horse approaching carrying a wealthy patron as evidenced by the man's clothing. He watched the man pass out of his peripheral vision. The haughtiness reeked on him. He even turned his head and scoffed at Samuel's dirty and worn out clothes. Samuel worked his jaw. After the man passed, he glanced backwards. No one else was around. He could rob the man and get the coin he needed to survive until Helgen.

He turned the gelding. As he did so, another memory of the past graced his mind. A time he'd gone into the streets with the purpose of relieving a rich woman of her valuables. It was foolish, but he'd been too young to fear too much. It was the first time he'd stolen something worth more than a few coins and the first time he'd stolen for someone besides himself...

* * *

Samuel wandered Riften's city center presumably aimlessly. He tossed a stone back and forth in his hands. The best thing about being a kid was people ignored you. He'd turned eleven a month ago, hardly a man, so he was still ignored. He creased his brow and missed catching the stone. He reached down to retrieve it, twisting his lips against the thought that distracted him. He wasn't just ignored by adults—Runa ignored him, too. She had ever since their argument in the courtyard.

Samuel tossed the stone high in the air and caught it, then resumed his game, pacing around the city center. He hated Runa and her ridiculous stubbornness. Even when he attempted to talk to her, she turned her head away and pretended he didn't exist. It was as if she'd forgotten he'd taken the switch for her. Samuel stopped tossing the stone and clenched it in his right fist. Course, he _had_ told her he didn't want her near him. But he thought, after the last three months...

Samuel pushed thoughts of Runa out of his head to concentrate, moving past Brand-Shei's stall and out into the streets. He'd been shadowing a woman for half an hour. He knew who she was. Everyone knew the Black-Briars. They were the ones really in control of Riften, though the Jarl pretended she was. They were rich, too, filthy rich.

He followed the young woman as she ambled along a walkway. He'd done this before, but usually for coins. Now he would take something worth far more. His palms grew sweaty. He could do this. He just had to act normal, do it like all the others. In the back of his mind, he knew this was dangerous. If he got caught stealing from a Black-Briar, Grelod could beat him to death.

The woman headed towards the stairs to move to the lower city. If he was going to do it, it had to be now. He took a breath and ran, careening into the woman. She cried out as she fell and he began muttering, "I'm sorry, lady." His hand was in her pocket already. He withdrew the small metal object he'd been aiming for. He pushed himself up from the ground, quickly slipping the object behind his back and into the band of his pants.

He held out a hand to help the woman up. She rose to her feet. He bowed his head to appear dejected. "I'm sorry."

To his surprise, the woman patted his shoulder. "I'm alright. No harm done."

Samuel swallowed and looked up at the woman. He'd thought all the Black-Briars were mean.

"You look like you haven't eaten in a while. Come with me to the alchemists and get some food."

"No, it's okay, I gotta go," Samuel walked away as quickly as he could. He was starting to feel uncomfortable. He didn't glance back until he was in front of Mistveil Keep. The woman had disappeared. He hadn't been discovered. He pulled the object out of his pants' band. It was a silver ring with a red stone and etched in intricate designs around the outside. He'd seen the woman shove it into her pocket as she entered the market and he'd suddenly got the idea that he had to have it.

He pocketed it. By the time he walked back through the orphanage door he'd made his peace with what he'd done. In fact, he was elated. This would make everything right. Girls liked shiny things, he knew that.

He peeked into the main room. Grelod's door was still shut as she napped. Hroar was laughing at a story Runa was telling as the girl sewed a rip in one of Grelod's dresses. Samuel ground his teeth. She never told him stories. Well, he would change that.

He wandered into the main room. Runa glanced over, then straightened her back and bent her head to her sewing. Hroar's laughing ceased and he glanced awkwardly between the two other children. Samuel walked to Hroar without looking at Runa as he passed the fireplace. "Go into the dining room," he whispered harshly.

Hroar looked at him in confusion. "Why?" His tone just as quiet.

"Just do it."

"What if I don't want to..."

"I'll give you half my lunch," Samuel hissed.

Hroar shook the hand Samuel offered. "Deal." He got up and walked away, Samuel following him with his eyes. Hroar loved to eat.

When Hroar was far on the other side of the orphanage, Samuel turned and set his eyes on Runa. His heart pounded. He gradually walked up in front of her. She didn't look up even though he was sure she knew he was standing there. He put his hand in his pocket, turning the ring over and over with his fingers. "I got something for you," he blurted out.

Runa didn't look up. He let out a harsh sigh. Dumb, dumb girl!

"It's just...I don't want it. I thought you'd like it."

Runa pulled on her needle and jerked it tight, head still down.

Samuel grew angry. He withdrew the ring and thrust it within her gaze. "Here. Just take it."

The needle dropped to the dress. Runa picked the ring up from his hand. Her head slowly lifted and her eyes met his. He blinked. They weren't hard, but confused. "Where...where did you..."

Samuel smiled. She was talking to him again. "Found it on the street. It was dirty. Probably had been there awhile. Anyway, you can have it. But don't let Grelod see it. She'll take it."

He made to move away, but Runa snapped at him. "You stole it. You shouldn't steal. It's wrong."

He glared at her. "I didn't steal it," he lied, but heat rose in his cheeks. On some level, he knew it was wrong to steal other people's possessions.

"Yes, you did. I know you steal a lot of things."

"Fine, then give it back if you don't want it," he said, stepping back up to her and holding out his hand.

Runa fingered the ring. She slid it onto her thumb. "It's pretty," she mumbled.

"Then keep it."

Samuel turned away, but Runa spoke again. "I won't tell Grelod you stole it." He looked back at her. Her eyes had softened. Then they gleamed mischievously. "Unless you keep passing your chores off on me."

Samuel cocked his head. "I'll give her your book if you do that."

Runa raised her chin. "Well, then, we're even, aren't we?"

Samuel smiled with half his mouth. "Guess so."

Runa dipped her head, going back to her sewing. Samuel grinned...

* * *

Samuel reined in the horse, stopping it in its tracks. He watched the wealthy man on his own horse trot down the road. Runa's childhood words rang in his ears, the ones about stealing being wrong. He knew most people thought that. He would hate it if someone stole from him. So, it wasn't exactly right, but he had come to think of it as sometimes necessary.

He sighed and turned the horse back around. His lame grey heart again. Maybe it was Brynjolf who had failed. Choosing him to join the Guild had been the wrong decision.

Samuel glanced back at the rider and steed now far in the distance. It just wasn't fair that some were more fortunate than others. Stealing righted this wrong, or so Brynjolf told him. Samuel looked on, passing a sign at a fork in the road indicating that to head to Helgen he needed to turn left. He turned the horse, scanning the sign as he passed and looking at the arrow that pointed back the way he'd come with Windhelm painted on it. After months of odd jobs and trying to keep himself alive he had made it to the bleak city. He'd gone inside thinking maybe to find permanent shelter and work, but he'd encountered someone in the local inn that changed his mind entirely...

* * *

Things had eased between Samuel and Runa after the ring. He wouldn't have called them best friends or anything, but they did talk and commiserate over their fate. He discovered that Runa's parents had died of a fever when she was five and she'd been passed around to different family members until one of them dropped her off with old Katryn. Runa was supposed to be the woman's maid, but the elderly lady got tired of her presence and thus dumped her in Riften. When Samuel related his own story of growing up in Honorhall, Runa had been aghast. He'd shrugged off her sympathy. He didn't want pity.

Months passed. Two more children were added to the orphanage, one a boy and one a girl, twins. They were a handful for Grelod and were beaten almost daily for their antics. Truth be told, Samuel, Runa and Hroar despised them. Their trouble spilled over on the other three orphans and several times they were all beaten as a group in retribution for the twins' actions. Grelod eventually got rid of the boy, a tall and dark man taking him off her hands. That same month, another child was dropped off—by his own parents. Samuel had heard the parents telling the boy they'd be back for him when they could. The boy, Francois, had spent every day for weeks checking outside the entrance door, looking for them. Gradually he quit hanging out in the entryway, though he often spoke of his hope. Samuel thought him naive. People didn't drop kids off at Honorhall unless they were disposable.

The girl twin ran away a few weeks later and was brought back by the guards. Grelod beat her something fierce and locked her in the punishment room. The next morning, the door to the punishment room was open and the girl was gone. No one had the guts to ask what had happened. Francois was sure Grelod had killed the girl, but Runa saw what she thought was the girl in the city center one day, though she only saw her from the back, so she couldn't be sure.

Things calmed down for a couple months even though Samuel, Runa, Hroar and Francois still bore the suffering of Grelod's cruelty. Samuel had found solace in Runa. They still argued at times, but there was something deeper between them now, a bond born out of adversity. He could endure Grelod as long as Runa remained.

Then came the day that a new boy arrived at Honorhall—Aventus Aretino. He was a sullen boy with solemn eyes and too quiet. He answered their introductory questions with one word answers. Samuel took an immediate disliking to him. He was twelve now and the boy was ten. He'd give him a week to settle in, then he'd let him know the lay of the land, that as the new addition, he'd take on the bulk of the chores. But at the end of the week, Aventus had received his first beating from Grelod.

It had been late at night and they were all asleep when suddenly Grelod was yelling out, angry that someone was making noise. Samuel rubbed sleep out of his eyes and beheld Grelod across the way yanking Aventus out of bed, a belt in her hand. She dragged him into the dining area. He lay back down, uninterested. But Runa was awake and staring at him. She looked dismayed. Samuel shrugged at her. They couldn't help the boy.

The belting sounded throughout the orphanage and Aventus cried immediately. Grelod mocked him for being weak. Samuel scoffed inside. He could have told anyone the Aretino boy was weak. He was entirely dispirited, no fight in him.

After a time, the beating ceased and Grelod stomped back into the room and tossed Aventus back into his bed, then retreated to her room again. He continued to sob. Samuel ground his teeth, wishing the kid would shut up so they could sleep. He startled however when Runa rose from her bed. He sat up and watched her walk over to the Aretino boy, laying down next to him and running her hand through his hair. "Shhhhh. Shhhhh. The sting won't last. Shhhhh."

Samuel balked. What was Runa doing? If Grelod saw her... He lay back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. What had come over the girl? She'd never comforted him when Grelod beat him or Hroar or Francois either.

The next day in their one hour in the courtyard, Runa spent her time next to Aventus, talking to him softly. Samuel had kept glancing over from where he squatted down playing a game with Hroar and Francois. His brow darkened. It was time Aventus knew his place in the order of things. He stood and marched up to the boy.

"Hey! I need to talk to you!"

Runa looked up at him and he was irked to see annoyance in her eyes.

"What about?" Aventus asked.

Samuel stared him down. "We have an order here. You're new and..." Before he could get any farther, Runa had stood and interjected.

"He doesn't have _anything_ to say to you," she insisted, eyes boring into Samuel.

Aventus glanced between them, clearly not understanding what was going on.

Samuel scowled at Runa and looked to Aventus. "So, the way things are here..."

Runa gripped his wrist and spoke to Aventus. "Excuse us." She pulled Samuel across the courtyard to a corner and then stuck a finger in his face, speaking in a whisper. "You leave him alone, Samuel."

Samuel narrowed his eyes and wrenched his wrist out of her grasp. "I don't take orders from girls," he whispered back.

"You'll take this one!"

Samuel folded his arms over his chest. "He's new. It's his turn."

"Not him."

"What? Is he your boyfriend?"

Runa's eyes flashed in anger. "No! His mother died three weeks ago. He's still mourning."

Samuel shrugged indifferently. "So what?"

"Argh!" Runa exclaimed. "Sometimes you're nice and sometimes you're an oafish troll. His. Mother. Died. You don't know what that's like."

Samuel felt anger tighten his chest. No, he didn't, because he'd never had a chance to know a mother. "We all have sob stories," he grumbled.

"You bother Aventus and I _will_ give Grelod the ring you stole."

Samuel balled his fists. "And I'll tell her where your book is."

"That's fine with me."

Samuel snarled at her. Did she really care enough about this new boy that she was okay with that?

Runa pressed him. "I'll do extra chores. Come on, Samuel. We don't have to fight."

Samuel looked into her pleading eyes and relented. He didn't want her to ignore him again. "Fine."

"Thank you," she said, walking back across the courtyard to Aventus. Samuel watched her sit down next to him and take up the conversation again.

Samuel stamped a foot. He couldn't stand the sullen Aretino boy. "She's called Grelod the Kind, you know." Everyone looked his direction, but he had his eyes on Aventus.

"The kind?" Aventus questioned in disbelief.

"It's a joke. The townspeople call her that. They don't care about any of us. You're Grelod's now and no one is going to help you."

Runa shot him an angry glare.

Aventus looked to the girl. "She's worse than last night?"

Runa slowly nodded. "She's a horrible woman." Runa jerked her head back to Samuel. "But we have each other."

"Yeah," Samuel murmured, walking back to Hroar and Francois and squatting down to play again. He stewed inside. He'd have to put up with this Aretino kid if only to appease Runa...

* * *

Samuel stopped the horse beside a river. He slid from its back and led it to the edge to drink. He held onto its reins as he bent down himself to let the cold, clear water quench his thirst. He considered his reflection after he finished. He looked so unkempt, hair matted, beard full. He should clean up before getting to Helgen. Samuel slapped the water with his hand, destroying the image. When he'd seen Aventus in Candelhearth Hall in Windhelm, he'd recognized him immediately. He was older, of course, probably twenty or so now. And he looked like a king, wearing clothes that boasted status. He'd approached, thinking maybe to get some help and Aventus had eagerly talked to him.

But the talk hadn't led to Samuel asking anything of the young man. Instead, Aventus had turned the conversation to Honorhall and what had happened to all the orphans after he left. Samuel had wanted to taunt him with what happened to Runa. What his running away had cost the poor girl that had defended him...

* * *

Aventus defied Samuel's expectations the same as Runa had. The next time Grelod beat him, he surprised all of them by not crying out once. Grelod didn't seem to notice. But Samuel had caught the resilient streak in the sullen and insular Aretino. Samuel didn't understand it. What was the harm in making noise when the crone beat you? It hurt. They all knew it did. There was no reason to pretend it didn't. But Aventus had dug in his heels.

Overtime, Aventus opened up a little more, telling them stories about Windhelm. Samuel thought it sounded an awful place to live and now that there was a civil war in Skyrim and Ulfric Stormcloak was causing a lot of it, he thought it sounded even worse. Runa hung on Aventus' stories, amazed by the almost perpetually snowy north. Samuel tried to think of stories he could tell, but he had none, only bleak ones about the children of Honorhall and who would want to hear those?

To make matters worse, Hroar and Francois began to look up to Aventus. They admired his ability to not make a sound when Grelod beat him. Samuel thought Aventus' resilience a foolish move. He was sure Grelod would get annoyed with the boy's silence at some point. Better to yell a lot and make her think her beatings hurt even more than they did. As it was, Aventus got beaten more than all of them as the new child. Keeping quiet only made the beatings longer and more severe.

Samuel sensed when Grelod was reaching her breaking point with Aventus but the boy got a lucky reprieve. An assistant to the orphanage was assigned by the Jarl. Samuel woke one morning to hear someone humming a pleasant tune. He'd wandered over to the assistant's room that had been empty for some time and peeked inside to see a younger woman. She looked rough and rural with tanned skin and stringy hair.

"She's here to stay," a voice whispered.

Samuel turned to see Runa at the dining table. He walked over and sat across from her. She was eating a sweet roll.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, his mouth watering.

"_She_ gave it to me," Runa said, nodding her head towards the assistant's room. "You want some?"

Samuel nodded eagerly. Runa broke off a piece and handed it to him. Samuel chewed it slowly, savoring the sweetness. "What's her name?" he asked through his bites.

"Constance. And she's nice." Runa sighed in relief. "Finally someone nice here."

Samuel glanced back at the room. Aside from the kindly townswoman who had weaned that he hardly remembered, there had been two other assistants. One was indifferent to Grelod's treatment of the orphans; the other had taken delight in carrying out Grelod's beating instructions. None had ever given the children a sweet roll. Maybe for once someone would care about them and save them from Grelod.

But Samuel's hope was short-lived. Grelod backed off for about two months, unsure of Constance. It was a good time for the orphans as Constance got them well fed again and tucked them in at night. Grelod punished them only when they had truly broken a rule. But Constance was too demure and Grelod couldn't hide in her shell for long. The first time she gave one of her old, hard beatings to Francois, Constance had been aghast and talked to the old woman, but in the end, she'd been forced to agree this was Grelod's orphanage and she could run it the way she wanted.

That was when Aventus' obstinacy came back to haunt him. It was no surprise to Samuel that once she was back to her old ways Grelod targeted the boy that had refused to make noise during his beatings. She did all kinds of things to Aventus then, beating him with her hands and any manner of implements, then locking him up in the punishment room. Constance intervened at times and got Aventus off the hook, but not nearly enough. Samuel grew to begrudgingly admire the boy. He had grown up in the orphanage and even he couldn't have withstood her this long. Runa took to begging Aventus to make some kind of noise so Grelod would stop going after him, but Aventus didn't heed her pleading. Samuel still thought the boy stupid, but at least his stupidity meant he got the brunt of Grelod's anger and not them.

Then came the culmination of the battle between Grelod and Aventus. Samuel would never forget what happened the night Constance left for a few days to care for a sick friend. Grelod had done something he'd never imagined she would even when she'd been at her most brutal.

The week before Constance left, Grelod had actually ignored Aventus. Samuel had been confused by this. Perhaps Grelod had tired of going after the boy. But it wasn't like her to give up. The evening of the day Constance left, he stood at the end of his bed, tired and ready for sleep. They were never allowed to sleep for the night without Grelod's permission as she always gave them a sound lecture beforehand. Like always, she came out of her room and took up position in front of the fireplace. But unlike always, she carried a bag in her hand that she dropped to the floor. She looked at each of them, and Samuel read danger in her gaze. He'd seen her before on the edge of doing something awful. His eyes shifted to Aventus also standing at the end of his bed. He was guessing the boy was in for another beating. No one else had done anything to so earn her ire.

"You will not defy me," Grelod spoke, voice low. "You cannot defeat me. _No one_ will win if they take me on. _Aventus!_"

As he'd anticipated, they were in for another viewing of Aventus at Grelod's mercy. He actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy, followed by annoyance that Aventus challenged Grelod so handily.

"Turn around!" Grelod commanded.

Aventus hesitated for a mere second, then obeyed, turning to his footboard.

"Kneel!"

Aventus did so.

Grelod addressed the other orphans. "All the rest of you! Stand over here!" She gestured to Runa's bed directly across from Aventus' on the other side of the room. Samuel stepped over next to Runa as Grelod went on. "And if just _one_ of you moves out of place, you'll be next."

As Hroar and Francois came to join them, Samuel watched Grelod dig into her bag and pull out two coils of rope. He cocked his head. He wasn't sure what she was up to this time. Grelod stomped over to Aventus and pulled off his nightshirt. Samuel felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Runa looking intently at him, a question in her eyes. Samuel shook his head. He had no idea what was going on.

He turned back to Grelod. She was tying Aventus' wrists to his bedposts. His throat went dry. This was going to be bad, whatever it was. When Aventus was secured, the woman picked up her bag again, withdrew an object and let the bag slip to the floor. She took up position behind Aventus. Hroar gasped at the same time Runa gripped Samuel's hand. Samuel blinked, shocked. Grelod held a whip, one with knotted strands. His heart stuttered. He may not have taken a liking to Aventus, but he wouldn't have wished this on him in a million years.

"You will never defy me again," Grelod growled and let the whip fly. Aventus sucked in a breath at the impact, but didn't cry out, still resisting the crone. Two more lashes and Runa's hand shook in Samuel's. She was crying.

"Shut up, Runa!" Grelod ordered.

Samuel looked down at Runa and let go her hand, shaking her by the shoulders. If she didn't shut up, he'd see her tied up and whipped next. Runa brought her hands to her mouth to stifle her crying.

Another lash drew Samuel back to the evil being perpetrated across the room. He was rooted to the spot. A brief thought of stopping this passed through his mind, but he couldn't move his feet. She'd said if any of them moved, they'd get it, too. He watched as bright red wheals appeared on Aventus' back, then after a time, blood. By that time, Aventus had lost his battle with Grelod. He'd moaned, then cried, then yelled. He begged Grelod to stop, but she didn't, not until Aventus' painful cries ceased and he slumped unconscious. Then she whirled around, the whip dangling from her hand. Her eyes—Samuel had seen her frenzied looks before, but this was even worse. He saw a beast and not a woman. She walked to the fireplace, snatched up the bag, stuffed the whip into it and made for the entrance. "Deal with him," she snapped loudly. The door opened and shut.

The children stood frozen for a moment, stunned at what they had witnessed. Then Samuel had taken charge. "Hroar, go check the door." He wanted to know Grelod was far away from here and Hroar was white as a sheet. He wouldn't be any help with Aventus. "Runa, get some water and a rag." Runa, still rubbing her eyes from her weeping, moved into the dining area. Samuel turned to Francois. "Help me."

Francois nodded through glazed eyes and they approached the unconscious boy. They worked at the coils of rope, letting Aventus loose. He pitched over onto the floor. Samuel grabbed one arm and Francois the other and they managed to haul him onto his bed. Hroar returned. "She barred...the door...I can't...open it." Hroar was swaying on his feet. Samuel looked to Francois who nodded and helped Hroar walk over to his bed.

Samuel heard the sloshing of water and Runa appeared around the corner with a bucket. She set it down at Samuel's feet and handed him a rag, then she knelt at the head of Aventus' bed, staring at the unconscious boy. Samuel submerged the rag in water, then brought it up. As he rung it out, he stared at Aventus' back. It was horrifying, the blood, the welts, the bruises starting to form. Samuel took a breath, then began to dab Aventus' back with the rag, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"I can't believe she did this," Runa muttered.

Samuel didn't look up from his work. "He defied her."

"This isn't his fault!"

Samuel rolled his eyes over to her. "I'm _not_ blaming him. But _don't_ defy her. She's evil to the core."

Aventus stirred, his head moving side to side, his arms flexing. He moaned and then began to cry. "I'm sorry, Aventus," Runa spoke softly. "I'm sorry. Samuel has to clean you. I'm sorry."

"Where's...Grelod?" Aventus asked in a strained voice.

"I don't know," Runa answered. "She left and barred the door from the outside."

"I'm leaving," Aventus groaned out. He made to push himself up.

"Not like this, you aren't," Samuel pointed out. Aventus wouldn't be going anywhere. The boy slid back down onto his bed.

Samuel dipped the rag back into the bucket. He saw tears in Runa's eyes. "Runa, get more water," Samuel commanded as he pulled the rag out. She stood and picked up the bucket. Her hands were shaking. She moved back to the dining area.

Samuel pressed his lips together and went back to washing Aventus. When he brushed one area, Aventus jerked on the bed. "Sorry," Samuel said. He couldn't even imagine the pain Aventus had to be in. He felt chagrined. Maybe he shouldn't have disliked him so much.

"I'm going to kill her," Aventus said, his voice quiet but determined.

Samuel raised his eyebrows and couldn't help but laugh darkly. "Right. I'll believe that when I see it."

A couple more seconds and Aventus said, "I'll get the Dark Brotherhood to do it."

Samuel had heard of them, hired assassins, but the idea of Aventus getting them to kill Grelod was ludicrous. "What would the Dark Brotherhood care about us?" Aventus didn't answer. Samuel kept wiping his back.

As it was, Aventus didn't get Grelod killed. What he did was get Runa beaten. Three weeks after Grelod whipped him, Constance returned from a market trip. Aventus had run away from her and out the city gates. Grelod was livid. But instead of taking out her anger on Constance, she turned to Runa, the orphan that had been the closest to Aventus.

The crone had gripped Runa by the hair, thrown her to the ground and kicked her over and over. Runa yelped and cried and rolled into a ball to protect herself, but Grelod wouldn't stop. Samuel had flung himself at the wicked crone, pushing her. "Leave her alone!" he shouted. Grelod turned and punched him square in the face and he went down to the floor. He cried out in pain and covered his nose. It throbbed and tingled. He rubbed a hand over it and saw blood.

"Grelod! Stop! Stop!" Constance was grabbing the crone's arms and pulling her backwards off of Runa. Grelod tried to fight her, but finally just pushed backwards into Constance to break her hold and stomped away and out the orphanage door. Constance leaned over Runa who was weeping on the floor. She took the girl's hand and led her to her bed. Runa lay down, sucking in rapid breaths. After Constance checked Runa over, she came over and knelt on one knee in front of Samuel. "We need to fix you up." Samuel followed the assistant into the dining room where she wiped his nose and face down with a cloth.

"It's not broken," Constance said after a time. "The bleeding's stopping."

Samuel felt like his nose had grown ten times its size. When Constance released him, he walked back into the main room and up to Runa's bed. "Runa..."

"I'm okay," she whimpered. "Just leave me alone." Samuel worried his lip and sat on his bed, unable to take his eyes off Runa.

Grelod returned late in the day and when she did she stomped right over to Runa, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the punishment room. Samuel had been in the dining area, sweeping the floor for Runa. He rushed into the main room, but the door to the punishment room was already shut. Hroar and Francois eyed him nervously. Then the shouting and cries began, Grelod clearly taking out more of her anger on Runa. Samuel run up to the door, shaking the handles. It was locked. He turned and rushed to Constance's room, banging on her door. The young woman opened it. "What is going on?"

"She's killing Runa!" Samuel shouted, pointing to the punishment room. Constance bolted to the door, Samuel on her heels. When they reached it, Constance pounded on the door.

"Grelod! Open this door! Grelod! Right now!"

Sounds of crying and impacts were the only response.

"Grelod! You kill that girl and...and...I'll go to the Jarl!"

The lock turned and the door opened. Grelod stepped out, glaring at Constance. "Tattle to the Jarl, will you? The Jarl has no power here." She stepped passed Constance, walked into her room and shut the door. The lock clicked.

"That woman!" Constance called out in exasperation. She walked into the punishment room to a figure shaking with tears on the floor. Samuel sat next to her as she cradled Runa in her arms. He clenched his fists as he observed bruises growing on Runa's cheeks and arms. He still didn't think Aventus had any weight to get Grelod killed, but he wished with all his might he would...

* * *

The horse plodded up a hill. Samuel stared up at the mountain looming above him. Somewhere up there were the Greybeards. He bet the view from up there would be impressive. Maybe you could see the Palace of the Kings in Windhelm where Aventus lived. Samuel set his eyes back on the road. Of course Aventus had become the ward of a Jarl, handed a life of luxury. He had run away and forgotten them. So much for getting the Dark Brotherhood to kill Grelod. And when he'd asked about the orphans and they'd talked about Runa, Samuel had almost told him the truth—that his running away meant the girl who had been so kind to him was beaten viciously. But he hadn't said it. He really couldn't blame Aventus for running away. If Grelod had taken a whip to his back, he might have done the same. And anyway, Aventus asking about the fate of the orphans had given Samuel the idea of going to Helgen.

The second consequence of Aventus' running away had fallen on all the orphans. Besides Grelod's beatings getting more severe, she wouldn't let any of them get adopted. It was like she wanted to break them all for Aventus' actions. Samuel's lips fell into a hard line. In retrospect, Aventus' actions also led to the loss of any fortune he might have been handed in this world, even if indirectly. If not for Aventus, he might have had a home and a family.


	5. Helgen

"Hey! You!" Samuel called out to a robed figure coming towards him. The tall figure stalled in front of his horse and looked up at him. He couldn't see very far into the hood, but it looked to be a young man close in age to himself.

"How close is Helgen?"

The hood turned to look back. "I think...perhaps five miles that way."

"Right. Thanks." Samuel tapped the horse and it moved forward. The figure strode on, determined in his gait. Samuel had never seen someone dressed like that before, completely covered in robe. It made him feel like the man was hiding something, but the figure kept on, not caring about the disheveled young man on a horse. Samuel had stopped to wash himself, but he couldn't help the state of his clothing.

Samuel pushed ahead. Five more miles, that's all it was until he saw her again. He hadn't seen her since the day her light left Honorhall...

* * *

"Samuel. I need to talk with you."

Samuel looked up at Constance from the dining room table. He was mending a broken water jug at Grelod's command. "Yes?"

Constance glanced into the main room at Grelod's open bedroom door. She was in there writing some letters. "Come into my room."

Constance moved to her room and Samuel stood and followed her inside. She gestured to her bed and Samuel sat. Constance closed the door, then sat down beside him. "I met a couple today, a blacksmith and his wife. They're going to Helgen." Samuel had heard about the rebuilding of Helgen. It had been attacked by dragons if the stories could be believed, but it was two years since then. "They're childless and I got talking to them and they want a child that can learn smithing."

Samuel's heartbeat quickened. Was Constance saying...

"I told them I'd meet them tonight at the inn with a child. I want you to come with me."

Samuel stared in disbelief. He was fourteen, far beyond when he thought anyone would take him.

"So get washed up. You want to make a good impression."

"Okay," Samuel said, standing. He left her room in a daze. Adopted. He would be adopted. He'd never had a home or parents. He wondered what it was like to be loved and belong.

He walked to the corner of the dining area and dipped his hands into the wash basin, rubbing his face and neck. His hair had grown long and he knew it wouldn't pass. He walked into the main room and dug into his chest, searching for his comb. As he did so he heard the entryway door open and close.

"Did you manage to find any?" Constance asked.

"Yes. I got a good deal, too. We have three Septims left." Samuel stopped digging. It was Runa that had spoken, now thirteen. If he left, he'd never see her again. _Adopted_, _Samuel. Adopted. Don't worry about her._ He found the comb and stood up, running it through his hair. He listened to the rustling in the larder and Constance and Runa chatting. He had gotten so used to the orphanage. What would it be like to live somewhere else?

He scanned the main room. Francois had run away last year. The orphanage had gotten to be too much for him and Aventus had showed it possible to escape successfully. He'd tried to get Hroar to go with him, but Hroar was too afraid of getting caught. Hroar was still a resident, twelve and growing taller by the day. Three other kids had come and gone in the last two years. They had all been pretty young. The older the orphans were the harder they seemed to get adopted. He looked into Grelod's room. He could just see her sitting at her desk, hunched over writing something. _Well, I might be out of your clutches tonight, hag._

Constance walked into the room headed to the fire with a large pot. "Samuel, go help Runa. She's got a rabbit that needs skinning."

Samuel smirked and headed to the larder. Poor Runa. She could do a lot of things but skinning animals still bothered her. It was one of her few weaknesses. He stepped inside the larder to behold the girl he knew so well, blonde hair tied back in a braid. She was staring at the rabbit with a knife in her hand. Samuel walked up and nudged her out of the way with an elbow. "I'll do it."

Runa sighed in relief, handing over the knife. She turned her attention to a passel of greens and began tearing off leaves next to him.

"So..." he said, glimpsing her out of the corner of his eye. "What's new in town?"

Runa snorted. "Nothing's new. Nothing ever changes here."

Samuel raised his eyebrows. "You're in a mood. That time again?"

Runa looked at him with wide eyes and shoved him. "You said you'd forget it ever happened!"

Samuel grinned and turned back to the rabbit. Runa had been in a panic the day she first bled. Samuel wouldn't have wanted to know about it, but she cried to him about how she was dying. He'd figured it out quickly when she'd whispered she was "bleeding somewhere private." He'd been in an orphanage with little privacy his whole life and had heard older girls talk about their changes. He'd promptly told her to go to Constance. She had and returned thoroughly embarrassed over ever talking to him about it.

Samuel pulled off a slice of skin. Over time, he'd taken on the role of Runa's protector. He guessed this was what being like a big brother with a sister felt like; only he didn't think of Runa as a sister. He felt a brief rise of heat in his cheeks and leaned farther over the rabbit. Sometimes he couldn't help but think of holding Runa and kissing her. _You'll never kiss her, dolt, especially if you get adopted._ Samuel rolled his eyes back over to her. He should tell her what Constance had said. He opened his mouth, but then abruptly shut it. No, not yet, not until he knew for sure he was leaving.

Evening approached. Constance pulled him aside and told him she'd gotten permission to take him to the inn tonight. Samuel nodded, feeling uneasy in his stomach. What would these people look like? What would they be like? Would they like him or would he be a disappointment?

They'd just finished dinner (Constance had persuaded Grelod to let them have two meals a day now) and Runa was helping Constance wash up. Samuel retreated to his bed and sat back against the headboard, knees pulled up to his chest, arms dangling over them, locking and interlocking his fingers nervously. When Constance was finished, she'd take him over to the inn.

"I found this!" a harsh voice cried out.

Samuel stiffened. What was the crone angry about this time?

"Runa! Get over here."

Samuel's chest constricted. Not Runa. He stood and walked to the middle of the main room where he could view the dining area.

Runa dried her hands on her skirt and walked over to Grelod who flapped a piece of paper in the air. He saw Runa's eyes widen in realization. "I...I just wanted to..."

"Write to Aventus!" Grelod finished.

Samuel worked his jaw. A letter. He should have guessed. Two years ago Runa had attempted to send a courier to Windhelm with a letter to Aventus. She told Samuel that she had to know if he was safe. She hadn't forgotten his ferocious whipping. She just wanted to know he was alright. The courier had brought her letter back months later unable to deliver it. Since then, she'd sent two other letters and the courier brought those back, too. The trouble with sending the letters was less the couriers and more the way it had to be done. Runa sneaked into Grelod's room when she was out to use her ink and paper. Samuel had told her the last time a letter returned that she should stop writing.

"This is written on _my _paper!" Grelod shouted. "You stole it!"

"I wasn't stealing, I just needed..."

"Grelod," Constance's voice interrupted, "It's just paper. I'll pay you back out of my wages."

"No one steals from me!" the crone yelled.

Samuel felt an ache in his chest. Hroar sighed and he glanced at him. They both knew what would happen. Grelod pulled Runa into the main room. Runa glanced at Samuel as she passed. She knew he couldn't stop this. The times he'd tried he'd ended up beaten right along with her and she'd told him just to let Grelod beat her instead of getting involved. Grelod pushed Runa into the punishment room. Samuel clenched his fists. In a few moments, familiar sounds began, the thwack of the belt and Runa's gasps of pain that would soon become cries.

Samuel looked back into the dining area. Constance had turned to Runa's washing, continuing it. _I can stop it_, he realized. He could stop it forever.

Samuel walked into the dining area and up next to Constance.

"I'm sorry, Samuel," Constance said. "We'll go soon."

Samuel swallowed hard. "Take Runa," he whispered.

Constance let the dish she was scrubbing sink into the water. "What?" she said, looking over at him.

"Make them take Runa."

"They want a blacksmith, not a maid."

"She can do that."

"Not many woman are blacksmiths, Samuel."

"But some are," Samuel said.

"Yes, but..."

Samuel gripped Constance's wrist. "Get her out of here."

Constance bit her lip, then her gaze resolved. "Alright. I'll take Runa."

"And don't tell her I said to or, you know, she'll interfere."

"Okay," Constance agreed.

Samuel turned back and walked into the main room, laying back on his bed. Runa was crying now. He closed his eyes. _Please let this be the last time I hear this._

And so it was. Whatever Constance said worked. Grelod wasn't keen to let Runa go but the couple headed to Helgen convinced her by paying a fee. He stood two mornings later in front of the orphanage as the couple came to pick up their daughter. He evaluated them. They both had black hair and sun-weathered skin. They looked hardy. The man was large. He would have intimidated Samuel but for his laughter. He seemed quite jovial. The woman was quieter but smiling. They seemed decent people.

Runa had joined hands with Constance and expressed her gratefulness for all the young woman had done. Then she had walked to Samuel, standing in front of him. They were about the same height then. He gazed into her chestnut eyes. "So...new family."

"Yes," Runa said, biting her lip.

"Hey, I'm sure they're fine. Nothing to worry about."

"Probably..."

"Well, then, I guess you need to go."

"I guess."

The woman approached and put a gentle hand on Runa's shoulder. "We really do need to get going. We have several miles to travel today."

"Yes...yes...Bye, Samuel."

"Bye."

Runa turned to walk towards the city gates. But before she had gone far, she twisted back around and ran back up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He didn't respond at first, startled, then he put his hands on her waist. "I won't forget you," she whispered. "I'll write if I can."

"Okay," was all he managed to say. She pulled back from him and hurried to the couple. She waved back once as she headed to the gates and Samuel waved back. Once she was out of sight, Constance walked over to him.

"You did a good thing, Samuel."

Samuel didn't answer. He turned back to Honorhall. It seemed darker now than it ever had...

* * *

Samuel sat motionless on his steed before the wide open gates of Helgen. It was afternoon and people were moving in and out going about their day. _She's in there somewhere._ At least, he hoped she was. He felt a tingle in his gut. He tapped the horse's sides and directed it to the stables outside the walls. He dismounted as a stable-boy came over and took the reins from him.

"How much to stable him?" Samuel asked.

"You want me to give him a rub down and wash him up?"

Samuel shook his head.

"Then three Septims a day."

Samuel opened his knapsack and dug into his coin purse. He didn't plan on keeping the horse, not if he found Runa. He'd thought at first he'd just let it go and wander back to Windhelm, but it had so faithfully carried him this far he was afraid it wouldn't make it back on its own, get attacked by wild animals or something. Maybe he'd just sell it. But he'd have to see if Runa lived here first. He handed over the coins to the boy, then moved through the gates into the city.

As he walked through, he was impressed. He'd heard Helgen had burned to the ground. You couldn't really tell anymore. It was a normal, bustling city. He scanned the face of every woman that passed him, but none had those chestnut eyes. He stopped when he saw an inn ahead of him. It would be a good place to ask about her. He walked up to the door as he contemplated the sign dangling over the entrance. It was a painting of a block with a basket next to it and the top of a head peeking out. In bold red letters was written underneath it "The Chopping Block." _Cheery name_.

Samuel pushed open the door. Five other patrons occupied the tables of the inn, some drinking, some eating and talking. Samuel approached the bar and sat down on a stool. A man with a pleasant smile, twinkling blue eyes and hair with gray streaks pulled back in a ponytail approached him from the other side of the bar.

"Welcome, traveler. What can I get ya?"

"Hum..." Samuel intoned. He didn't have much coin left. "How much is a meal?"

"I can get you bread, roasted tomatoes and a side of pheasant for seven. Add an ale and its ten even."

Samuel's stomach clenched. He was so hungry. But he didn't know if he could risk spending that much. "Can I get it for eight?"

The man ran an eye over his clothing. "You ain't got much, huh? Tell you what. I'll give it to you for seven, but you gotta come back here and sweep up tonight."

Samuel held out his hand. "I will." The innkeeper shook it.

"What's your name?"

"Samuel. Yours?"

"Merek." The innkeeper walked off for a moment to a backroom and returned with a plate of food. Samuel handed him his Septims. As Samuel ate, Merek stayed put, taking up a towel to dry off some recently washed flagons. "You need lodging, too?"

Samuel snorted. "I don't know if I _want_ to lodge in an inn called The Chopping Block."

Merek laughed. "S'pose the name's a bit of a turn off if you don't know the local history." Samuel didn't respond. "Guess you're one who don't know." He continued toweling down flagons as he talked. "You remember them dragon attacks years ago?"

Samuel nodded.

"One of the first was here at Helgen. Reason it was abandoned for a time. The dragon was a great, big, fire-breathing, dark hulk of a thing. You know why it came here?"

Samuel shook his head, wondering if the innkeeper simply made up this story for business.

"Cause Ulfric Stormcloak was gonna die."

Samuel tilted his head.

"Yep. Ulfric Stormcloak. The Imperials had caught him and they was just about to chop his head off when the dragon showed up to set 'im free."

Samuel raised an eyebrow, now sure this was a made up story. "The dragon didn't do him much good in Windhelm, then, did he?"

Merek paused in the middle of shining a flagon, then cracked a smile. "They say the Dragonborn took Unflric down. Guess the dragon didn't want to tangle with that one."

Samuel took a drink of his ale.

"You want to see it?"

"What?"

"The chopping block. Built this place right over it."

Samuel raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Why not? Merek set a flagon down and walked out from behind the bar towards a room at the back of the inn. He pushed open a door. It was a comfortable looking bedroom with a bed, fireplace, table and chairs, but the atmosphere was tainted by the chopping block in the middle of the room near the end of the bed. The innkeeper ambled over to it. "See. Still's got the blood on it."

Samuel walked over, peering down at it. It was dark with old blood. "You put it in a room?"

Merek smiled impishly. "Well, you see, now and then Ulfric's ghost shows up here and some people want a thrill. They come here just to see him shake the block in otherworldly fear."

"But he didn't die here," Samuel said, not believing for a moment in Ulfric's ghost.

Merek grinned. "Who can say why the dead show up where they do? You can stay in the room tonight if you want, test it out."

Samuel tilted his head at the man. "I'm guessing I don't have the coin for it."

"Well..." Merek said, looking him up and down. "I'd say that's accurate. But if you stay and tell people you saw Ulfric..."

Samuel held a hand up, stopping the innkeeper's persuasion. "I don't think I'm staying here. I actually wanted to find someone who lives here, I think."

"Oh? Who?"

"Runa Fair-Shield."

Merek put a hand to his chin. "Fair-Shield...Fair-Shield..."

"She was adopted. You might not know her by Fair-Shield."

"Runa, then, eh? Runa..."

Samuel didn't think Merek had any idea, probably because Runa didn't live here anymore and he'd made the trip for nothing.

"Runa...Wait...There is a Runa, I think."

Samuel's pulse quickened. "Where?"

"I think she was Jaron's daughter, the blacksmith."

"Was?"

"He died two winters ago."

"Is she still here?"

"Believe so. West side of town, across from the defense tower."

Samuel turned on his heel and made for the entrance.

"Hey! What about your meal?"

"I'll be back for it," Samuel called without looking back.

* * *

Samuel leaned against the side of the defense tower, staring intently at the house across the street. He had found the blacksmith's for certain as evidenced by the forge, anvil, workbench and grindstone that occupied a shady spot under an overhang. Right next door was the house. He'd meant to go up and knock on the door, but he'd suddenly felt unsure of himself and hung out by the defense tower instead. He had seen no one enter or exit the dwelling. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he was trying to make sense of his thoughts.

_What if this is a mistake? Maybe she won't want to see me. Maybe I'll remind her of Honorhall and Grelod. I should leave. This was a stupid idea._ But he couldn't make his feet move. He'd come so far and not to see her...it was unthinkable.

The door opened. Samuel's heart flew into his throat when out stepped a shapely young woman with blonde hair bundled up at the nape of her neck. She wore an apron and a dress of light blue underneath. Her brow was smudged with black streaks. It had to be her. She walked to the overhang, retrieving a sheathed sword, then proceeded to walk down the street.

Samuel pushed off from the wall of the defense tower and trailed her. As she walked, he smiled at her gait. She may be a grown woman but the walk was still the one she'd had as a child. His pulse raced. His mouth had gone dry. He didn't know how to approach her.

She stopped at a large house near the back of the town and he watched from across the street as she handed the sword off to a servant who then gave her coin. She secured the Septims in her waist-purse, then seemed to be retracing her steps home. Samuel tried to think of how to talk to her as he followed. She provided the right moment herself. Instead of going straight home she turned off and walked through an arch into an area walled by low-lying hedges. Samuel crept up to a hedge and saw her in a well-tended garden standing by a pool in the middle, gazing down into it. Samuel swallowed, then proceeded through the arch and ambled up to the pool. She turned her head to him, perhaps wondering who else sought a moment of solitude in this beautiful place.

He raised his gaze from the pool and met her eyes. They were still chestnut and now, he thought, gorgeous. There was only a second of lack of recognition, then they widened. "Samuel?" she whispered.

Samuel grinned. So she knew who he was even under the beard. He nodded. Her mouth fell open. Samuel coughed. "I...uh...was in the area and..." Before he could say any more she had drawn close to him and grasped his hands.

"I can't believe it," she whispered.

He smiled. "Well, it's definitely me...Runa." It felt so right to hear his voice say her name aloud.

"What are you doing in Helgen?"

"I'm thinking of settling down somewhere, maybe here."

Runa shook her head, eyes still amazed. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"Well, you were wrong."

Runa let go his hands and indicated a bench in front of the pool. He followed her over and they sat. She stared at him. "You look so...different."

Samuel laughed. "So do you." Runa shared his laughter. He pointed to her forehead. "You're a blacksmith, then."

Runa reached up and rubbed her forehead, then looked at her dirtied hand. "I must look a mess." Her cheeks tinged pink.

"You look fine." _Better than I even dreamed._

She looked back at him and smiled. "So...what have you been up to since last I saw you?"

Samuel folded his arms over his chest and shifted on the bench. "Oh, going here and there. Odd jobs." He couldn't tell her about the Thieves Guild, not yet, maybe never.

"When did you...get out?"

"Sixteen. She threw me out."

"Sixteen?" Runa mused, her gaze saddening. "You were there your whole life."

"Well, not my _whole_ life. I've still got enough time to live."

Runa smiled again. "You're out. That's what matters." Silence fell over them for a moment, neither sure what to say. Runa contemplated the pool; Samuel gazed on her, tracing her rounded chin, full lips and snub nose. Runa eventually spoke again, eyes on her lap. "I wrote to you."

He thought that was probably the case, but his heart lightened to hear it nonetheless. "I never got any letters."

Runa sighed and raised her eyes to him. "When you didn't reply, I thought she probably threw them away."

"Probably. Though it wouldn't have mattered much. I couldn't have read them."

Runa tilted her head at him. "Is that why you made me read to you? I thought you were just being bossy like always."

Samuel chuckled. "I suppose it was a little of both."

"I've thought about you sometimes. It's good to know you're alright."

Samuel nodded and smiled, but he knew he hadn't been alright, not until now.

"What about Hroar?"

Samuel uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his knees, unsurprised she'd want a run-down of those they had known. "His aunt came to get him a few months after you left."

"I didn't know he had any family left."

"Neither did he, but anything to get out of there." He tapped a knee. "You ever write Aventus again?"

Runa shook her head and sucked in her lips, perhaps remembering the beating she had received the last time she wrote to the boy.

"Saw him in Windhelm."

Runa raised her eyebrows. "You did?"

Samuel nodded. "Thought you'd like to know he's doing well. Ward of the Jarl. Rich and all is perfect."

"I'm glad to know it." Runa turned to a flowering bush next to the bench, fingering a purple bud. She whispered, "How did we make it through that, Samuel?"

Samuel twisted his lips. "We had each other," he said, recalling Runa's words of years past.

Runa took a deep breath as she turned back to him. "Well, let's not dwell on it." She stood. "You must come home with me and meet mother."

"I guess I could..."

"Good." She walked back through the arch and into the streets, Samuel following her. They didn't talk, though he caught her glancing at him more than once, her eyes marveling over his appearance. When they reached her home, she opened the door and gestured for him to follow her inside. He did so. She shut the door, calling out, "Mother! We have a guest!"

Samuel scanned the comfortable living area with a fireplace dead ahead and a dining area on the left. A woman walked out from a room on the right. He recognized her as the same woman that had come to get Runa at Honorhall seven years ago; she was a bit older with a few wrinkles, but still quite the same. She looked at Samuel with curiosity. "Who is this?"

"Samuel. He was at the orphanage with me when I was a child."

"Ah. Samuel." The woman smiled at him. "She used to mention you when she was younger."

Samuel looked over at Runa. "Oh did she? I hope it was good."

Runa smiled with the same twinkle in her eye he had known years ago. "Mostly."

"Well, Samuel, welcome," Runa's mother went on. "I'm Elysant, but they call me Ely. Please, come sit." Samuel sat down at the dining table. "Have you eaten?"

"Not really." His meal back at The Chopping Block had to be cold by now, probably discarded by Merek. Besides, he wanted to stay as long as possible.

Ely walked over to the fireplace, dipping into a pot and ladling soup into a bowl. She set it in front of him and then handed him a plate with a chunk of bread on it.

"Thanks," Samuel said, pulling off a piece of bread and dipping it in the soup.

"Tell us about yourself," Ely said cheerily. "What brings you to an out of the way place like Helgen?"

Samuel launched into a tale mainly of the places he'd worked on odd jobs the past six months, making it sound like it had been the extent of his six years out of the orphanage. Then Ely and Runa took up the conversation and he learned that Jaron had died falling from a roof while helping a friend build a house. Runa had taken up the smithing.

"I'd like to see your work," Samuel said once his bowl was empty.

Runa waved a dismissive hand. "It's not as good as father's."

"Now, now. It's good. You know it," Ely defended. She looked to Samuel. "Everyone around here wants her work."

Samuel grinned. "Then show me."

"If you want," Runa said, standing.

"Before you go," Ely spoke, causing Samuel to pause after he stood, "do you have a place to stay? Pardon my directness, but you don't look like you do."

Samuel was sure his clothes spoke of the many nights he'd slept outdoors. "Not yet."

"We have a small room in the basement with a bed. You are welcome to it."

Samuel felt elated, but maintained a calm exterior. "I'm grateful. Thank you." He followed Runa out the door and over to the workshop. "Your mother is nice."

"She is," Runa said. "Getting adopted was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Samuel smiled surreptitiously, proud of his part in getting her here.

Runa walked to the side of the smithy and pointed to a group of weapons. "Well, what do you think?"

Samuel ran his eye over the assortment of daggers, swords, axes and bows. He picked up a bow and held it aloft, pulling it and letting it twang. "Pretty good. I use bows myself."

"I don't make many. Sometimes the local guards want them, though."

Samuel set the bow down and picked up a dagger, swinging it back and forth and then thrusting it. Well crafted, good balance, solid blade. "Your father taught you well."

"He didn't want to teach me at first," Runa said, leaning back against a support pillar. "Said I should just enjoy being a woman. But I wouldn't leave him alone. Spent most of my days here watching him, learning from him."

Samuel glanced over the plethora of swords. "You fight?"

Runa laughed. "No. I make them, I don't use them. Only for fun, but not often."

"No tournaments, huh?" Samuel asked.

"No. We don't have them here anyway."

"How do you test them out, then?"

"Test dummies in back," Runa said, gesturing to the area behind the house. Three steps led out the back of the smithy and Samuel could see a path turning to the right behind the house.

He flipped the dagger in his hand and caught it deftly, then reached out and grabbed another one. He held it out to her. "Want me to teach you?" Anything to be alone with her and away from prying eyes.

Runa's eyes danced. "Well, I guess I could give it a..."

"Runa!" a voice called out.

Runa's eyes lit up and she turned. "Haming!" She rushed out of the smithy. Samuel set the daggers down and followed after her into the streets.

He saw a young man walking towards them, similar in age with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. A bow was strapped to his back, a sword at his side, and he wore a flowing cape, the hood lowered. Runa ran right into his arms, enveloping him in a tight embrace. Samuel's gut twisted.

"I didn't think you'd be back for another three days," Runa said.

"Blessings of Kyne," Haming said as Runa let go and turned, her hand wrapped around his waist and his around hers.

"Haming, this is Samuel. A friend from the orphanage," Runa introduced. "Samuel, this is Haming."

Samuel automatically held out a hand and the young man shook it with a strong grip. Samuel had been a thief long enough to develop a poker face and smiled nonchalantly, but he had never hated someone so much his entire life.


	6. Obstacle

Samuel stared into the darkness having long ago blown out the candle Ely had provided in the room in the basement. He pulled the sheets of the bed tighter, then angrily threw them off. He'd been forced to endure the presence of Runa's "friend" as he ate a bowl of soup in the house. The young man had related his hunting expedition. Turned out he was the local hunter that provided meat for Helgen. Samuel had been bored to tears by a hunter's relation of stalking this and that prey. But Runa sat close to Haming, smiling at his descriptions and explaining hunting terms to Samuel. When he thought he couldn't take it any longer, Samuel had excused himself, saying he had promised the owner of The Chopping Block he would be back to help sweep up.

When he'd stomped into The Chopping Block, Merek had greeted him warmly. "Wasn't sure you'd be back."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Samuel snapped.

"Yeah, but I wasn't sure. Kept your plate, though." Merek pointed to a plate covered in cheesecloth.

"I don't need it anymore."

"You still owe me, though."

"I know. Where's a broom?"

"Over there."

Samuel had picked up the room and started swishing it all over the place, dust flying and some patrons turning to give him nasty looks. Merek had left his bar and stepped up next to Samuel, stopping his violent sweeping by grabbing the tip of the broom handle. "Hey, there, I wanted ya t'sweep, not choke my patrons to death."

Samuel took a deep breath and pulled the broom out of Merek's grip. "Sorry." He began again, this time doing it right. When he finished, he brought it back to Merek and turned to go, but Merek put a hand on his shoulder.

"Not what you expected?"

"What?" Samuel asked, glaring at the innkeeper.

"This girl, Runa. Not what you thought she was."

Samuel ground his teeth. She was exactly what he thought she was. It was her attachment he hadn't anticipated.

"Women ain't worth the trouble," Merek advised. "Trust me."

Samuel shook off Merek's hand and headed back to the door.

"Your meal?"

"Eat it," Samuel said as he opened the door.

He walked the streets for a time, debating even going back to Runa's. All along his journey he'd imagined them picking up where they left off, Runa bringing him back close to her, making him part of her life again. He hadn't anticipated how much she would have experienced without him...or _who_ she would have met without him.

He finally did turn back as the sun set. He had no where to go and Ely had a room waiting for him. He stepped up to the door and debated if he should walk in or knock. _I'm staying here. I have every right to just walk in._ He boldly opened the door and promptly wished he hadn't. Runa and Haming were sitting on a bear rug in front of the fireplace and Haming had his hand on her middle back. They were talking in whispers and Runa was giggling. She looked up when the door opened.

"Samuel," she said, standing. "Mother went to bed. She always goes to sleep so early. Why don't you join us?"

"I'm tired," Samuel spoke shortly.

"Then I'll show you your room."

Haming stood. "I should go anyway. I need rest as well. It was good to meet you, Samuel." Haming held out his hand. Samuel stepped forward and took it, forcing himself not to squeeze the life out of the young man. He followed Runa as Haming left.

Runa picked up a candle from the table and descended a flight of stairs to the basement, Samuel in her wake. They passed several crates of raw smithing materials and came to a small room at the back. Runa walked inside and used the candle she held to light another on a small table. The room contained a bed in a corner and a chest across from it. Samuel could cross the whole thing in three strides.

"I'm sorry it's so small," Runa said.

"It's fine," Samuel said, walking to the bed and sitting down. He expected her to go, but she didn't move. He looked up at her. She was smiling at him. "What?"

"It's just...it was so long ago, but since I saw you...I keep remembering things we did, things we said."

Samuel spoke lowly. "Things we went through."

"It was bad, of course. And I wish I hadn't known Honorhall. But there were good things, too. You were one of them."

Samuel tipped his head, surprised to hear her speak this way. "Me?"

Runa laughed. "Yes. You. I know we didn't get along at first, but after I left, I thought about the place over the years and I realized how much you did to get us all through it. Everyone looked up to you, you know."

Samuel mused. He'd known that at least in some vague way. At least, he knew he took charge often enough.

"You'd been there so long and could deal with anything Grelod threw at us. We relied on you."

Samuel had never been complimented so much, not in this way. He didn't know what to say. "Well...uh...I didn't really know that."

Runa smiled again. "Anyway, it's good to see you and I'm glad you're here." She turned to leave, but Samuel spoke up to stay her.

"You helped me, too," he said, standing suddenly.

Runa turned. "Me?"

"Yeah, I mean, you, uh, were the first girl that didn't bawl her eyes out all the time. Made me think better of girls, I guess."

Runa chuckled. "I guess that's good, then. Night, Samuel."

"Night."

She walked out and closed the door behind her. Samuel punched his hand into his fist. _You were the first girl that didn't bawl her eyes out? What a childish thing to say._ That wasn't how she'd helped him at all. He plunked down on the bed and removed his shoes, then lay back and stared into the dark. He couldn't get that picture of Runa and Haming in front of the fire speaking so intimately out of his head. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. Why had he come here? What had he wanted? He'd thought he'd just wanted to see her again. He hadn't understood his inner motivation. He'd wanted to find more than to just find Runa; he'd wanted to find a woman to wipe away his pain and his trials, to make a new life with. And then any hope he'd had had been smashed by this wretched Haming.

Samuel clenched his fists. Runa had been the only one who had truly meant anything to him. Even when he'd joined the Thieves Guild and had friends, he'd been too young to be intimate with any of them. There were a couple women close to his age when he reached his twenties, but they had no interest in him, their eyes set on well-established and rich thieves. He was still a whelp without a good deal of coin or experience to his credit. And when he'd failed in his first major mission, he knew that every single one of the members in the Ragged Flagon would turn on him in a heartbeat the minute Brynjolf ordered them to.

Haming...Who was this young man? What did he have to offer Runa? Had he just been available? Maybe he was playing her, enjoying her attentions only for fun. Maybe her feelings weren't already inseparable from him. Maybe...

Samuel grit his teeth. He'd find out all about this Haming. If he was serious, well, Samuel determined he could think of something to change his mind.

* * *

He was afforded the opportunity the next morning. He woke up feeling rested even after all the tumult of his mind. He lit the candle and was surprised to see a set of clothes laid out on the chest in the corner. Runa must have set them out after he fell asleep. He changed out of his dirty clothes and into the clean set. It was a bit big, probably her father's, but she had left a belt and he tied it all together. It would do. He carried the candle as he traversed the basement and climbed up the stairs. He paused at the landing when he saw who occupied the table in the main room—Haming.

"Morning," Haming said, then shoved a mess of eggs in his mouth.

Ely turned from her place in the kitchen. "Good morning."

"Morning," Samuel spoke mechanically, annoyed that apparently it wasn't uncommon for Haming to have breakfast at Runa's.

"Come and eat," Ely said. She set a plate of eggs and a slice of bread at one of the chairs.

Samuel walked over, set the candle down and blew it out, then sat down across from Haming, scooping some eggs onto the bread and chewing. Ely was an excellent cook.

"I'll be right back," Ely said, walking out the front door with another plate.

Samuel followed her with his eyes.

"Taking breakfast to Runa," Haming explained. Samuel looked back at him. Haming smiled. "She always likes to get work done early as possible."

Samuel turned back to his meal, trying not to show the disgust he thought of Haming to his face.

"Runa says you've been traveling around Skyrim."

Samuel nodded.

"I've see quite a bit of it myself. My grandfather took me hunting all over it."

"Um," Samuel grunted.

"But I had to come back to Helgen. Grew up here."

Samuel swallowed a bite of bread. "You were here when it burned?"

Haming nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I saw the dragon with my own eyes."

Samuel raised his eyebrows. Maybe Merek hadn't been making up the dragon at least. "You saw a dragon?"

Haming sighed. "Yeah. My parents died in the attack."

So he was an orphan, too. No wonder Runa had been drawn to him.

"My grandfather raised me from eleven." Haming smiled. "Good man, if a little rough around the edges."

Samuel scoffed inside. Haming may have lost his parents, but he had a loving adult to take over for them. He didn't know what it was like to be a true orphan. "My mother died when I was born. I never knew my father." Samuel stared at the young man, feeling a smug sense of one-upmanship.

Haming nodded thoughtfully. "Runa told me about the orphanage. Awful place. Sorry you both went through that."

Samuel ground his teeth. He hadn't expected Haming to know about it. He felt irked Runa had opened up to this young man about the only experience he shared with her. How could Haming possibly understand? "Made me strong," Samuel spoke lowly.

"Yeah, Runa said they all depended on you."

Samuel narrowed his eyes. How much had she told him? "How did you meet Runa?" he asked, changing the conversation to a topic that didn't involve him.

"I came back here when I was eighteen, I guess drawn home. Found a job hunting, got established. When her dad died, I helped her and Ely. Gave them what I could from my hunting until they could pay."

Samuel felt the smugness return. Haming had done very little for her. So he'd given them free meat? That was nothing compared to giving up your entire life for her. Samuel glanced around the room. This would have been _his_ home if he hadn't given it to Runa.

Samuel leaned back in his own chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He had this guy beat by miles. He had started to smile, but it stopped at a hard line. Of course, Runa didn't know she owed him everything. So what? She'd known Haming closely for two years. He had the guy beat by two, living day in and out with her for four. Sure, it was a long time ago, but it still counted.

The door opened and Ely came back in with an empty plate. Samuel stood up from his chair. "I need to go out for a time," he said to her.

"Alright. Come back for lunch."

Samuel looked at Haming as he answered. "I will." He exited and walked over to the smithy. Runa had her back to him at the workbench hammering out some metal. He stood on the edge of the overhang. "Bright and early, eh?"

Runa looked over at him and smiled. "Sleep well?"

"Good enough." He nodded at the workbench. "I could help you out. Do some of that for you."

Runa put a hand on one hip, the hammer dangling from the other. "I don't need a man's help."

Samuel couldn't help but laugh. "You haven't changed much, have you?"

Runa laughed. "I guess not."

"I was just offering."

"I appreciate it, but I don't need help."

"Alright. I'm going to look for a job somewhere else then."

"Oh...you're staying then?"

"Might as well. Helgen's as good as any other place." No it wasn't. No other place had Runa.

"You're welcome to stay in our home as long as you need to."

"Thanks," Samuel said, though he'd had no intention of leaving her house. Haming might live in Helgen, but he didn't live in her home, not yet.

"And I didn't realize you wanted a job. If you need the coin, you can help me..."

Samuel held up a hand. "I'm sure you and your mother need all of it. You've given me shelter and food. I won't take anything else from you."

"But you'll need money to get your own home."

"I'll make it another way." And I won't do it by thieving, he added to himself. Not with Runa nearby. He'd be the honorable man she deserved. "I'll see you at lunch."

"Good."

He turned and walked into the streets. He'd find a job and get himself established here and he'd make sure Runa saw him way more than Haming ever saw her.

* * *

Samuel didn't have a difficult time finding a job. Merek offered him a position at The Chopping Block working behind the bar, cleaning up and on occasion rattling the door of the "chopping room" as he called it to make overnight patrons think ghosts were upon them. It wasn't as exciting a job as thieving, but it was steady. Samuel wasn't going to do anything jeopardizing his place in Runa's home. He wouldn't go anywhere near getting arrested for stealing. He even sold the horse from Windhelm, vowing it was his last profit from thievery.

Although his job went well, things at Runa's house were mixed. He enjoyed being so close to her and found a quick friendship developed between them. He adored her stubborn spirit, a quality he'd liked in her childhood that she hadn't lost. But being adopted and having a true family had also softened some of her rough edges. She was headstrong, but also a lady. She was the kind of woman a man could rely on, a woman who would make a perfect companion. And thus, along with Samuel's pleasure at being near Runa, there was consternation. Haming still hung around and Runa still embraced him. But Samuel had discovered they weren't promised to be married, not yet. He had a chance and he thought a good one at that. Whenever Haming went hunting, he had Runa to himself. He lived for those days and used them to his advantage.

Three weeks after he arrived in Helgen, he came back from Merek's in the evening to find Ely alone at the dinner table. She looked up when he entered from her meal. She gestured to a plate of food to her left. "She's out back testing bows. I've tried to get her to come in, but…" She shrugged.

Samuel headed back out the door. "I'll get her." He walked through the smithy and down the few steps into the backyard. He hadn't been back there much, only a couple times when Runa tested swords. He saw her from the back holding up a long bow with an arrow. He stayed back and watched her draw it, then let the arrow fly. It brushed the edge of the target. She let out a frustrating sigh.

"You hold it too tightly," Samuel spoke up.

Runa twirled to him. She held out the bow. "Then you do it."

Samuel sauntered up and took it, picking up an arrow from a pile on the ground, held the bow aloft, nocked the arrow, pulled back and shot—bull's-eye. He smiled widely at her.

"Don't gloat!" she said, face clouded.

He laughed. "You never liked that boys could do some things you couldn't."

Runa grabbed the bow out of his hands. "Plenty of women are archers."

"Let me teach you."

Runa narrowed her eyes at him. "I only wanted to make sure it was good."

"It is…in the right hands."

Runa turned to walk back to the smithy, but Samuel stayed her with a hand on her arm. "Swallow your pride and let me show you."

Runa sighed and turned. "Fine." She walked back to the pile of arrows and picked one up.

Samuel took the bow from Runa. "First, it's new. It needs some breaking in." He pulled back on the string several times. "It'll take some time to limber up, but we can manage for now." He handed it back to her. "Hold it." Runa lifted the bow vertically in front of her. "Higher." He used his palm to push her arm up a little. He took the arrow from her hand and set it against the string. "Now, lock it." Runa locked the arrow to the string. "Draw." She did. "Now aim at…" Before he could say anything else, the arrow zipped forwards and over the target. Runa smoldered and dropped the bow.

"You're too tense. You need to relax."

Runa turned perturbed eyes on him. "Who has the time to figure this out anyway?"

"Gonna give up?"

Runa stuck her chin out. "No."

Samuel stifled a chuckle. "Here." He picked the bow up and handed it back to her. "Get in your stance again."

She straightened out as she blew a frustrated breath. Samuel walked up behind her and sidled so close he felt her curves against his body. "Bring it up." Runa put out her arm with the bow. "Lock the arrow." She did. "Draw." She did and he brought his hand up, adding his own strength to her hold on the bow. He drew her hand back to the end of her jawbone. He could feel her tense grip on the arrow. "Relax your grip." He felt her fingers loosen. "Aim at the smallest point in the center. That dirt spot," he said. "I'm letting go." Runa maintained her draw. "When you feel it's right." Runa's brow was creased and she hardly breathed. She released the string. The arrow zipped away, striking the target in the second circle. "See, it's not so bad."

Runa slowly turned. They were so close he could feel her breath in his face. "I…I guess…thank you."

"You're welcome." Samuel's heart thumped wildly.

"Uh…" Her fingers were playing over the top of the bow. Samuel covered them with his hand. He leaned closer to her. Runa thrust the bow into his chest. "Why don't you show me again?" She backed away.

Samuel's heart sank, but he turned with the bow and picked up another arrow. He held the bow straight out, nocked the arrow, drew back the string as far as it would allow, then looked at her mischievously. He turned the bow horizontal, really an impractical way to hold it, but he wanted to show her how good he was. He let the arrow fly. It hit the target dead center again. He lowered the bow and swaggered towards Runa, but before he could reach her he heard the sound of an impact on the target. He looked to it and saw another arrow in the middle of the target that had knocked his loose; it lay on the ground. Samuel twisted around and saw Haming standing at the bottom of the stair steps, just lowering his bow. He strode forward. Samuel worked his jaw.

"You're good," Haming complimented Samuel as he walked up to Runa and put an arm around her shoulders. Runa pressed into him.

"I know," Samuel murmured.

"You're almost as good as me," Haming teased.

"I'd say we're evenly matched," Samuel ground out.

Runa, who had been gazing up at Haming, now looked to Samuel, her lips sucked in. She blew out a breath of air. "Samuel was trying to teach me."

"She _let_ you?" Haming laughed. He playfully chucked Runa's chin. "Did it do any good?" he asked her.

Runa smiled with half her mouth. "Not really."

Samuel stewed inside. She'd hit the target, hadn't she?

"Well, no matter. Your mother said to come eat."

Haming turned Runa, his arm still across her shoulders. Samuel followed behind, glaring at Haming's back. Samuel set the bow down in Runa's pile of completed weapons as they passed through the smithy. Once inside, they all tucked into Ely's meal, tasty as always, but Samuel hardly noticed. He ate mechanically and little. He excused himself as soon as able and retreated to his solitary room. He sat on the bed, head in his hands, trying to think through a tumult of emotions. He was interrupted by a knock on the doorframe. He looked up to see the last person he wanted to at the moment—Runa.

"Do you need something?" he asked with forced formality.

Runa walked inside and sat down next to him on the bed. "Samuel...I love Haming."

Samuel clenched his jaw. "So?"

"I intend to marry him."

"He asked you?"

"Not yet. He will."

"So sure are you," Samuel said, a hint of anger in his tone.

"I know he loves me, too."

Samuel sucked in a breath. She was so close to him. He stood up and leaned against the wall, her presence an irritation at the moment. "You want to live with a man whose every thought is ruled by killing beasts, fine."

Runa met his gaze. "Haming is much more than just a hunter."

Samuel snorted.

"You don't know him," Runa said, her tone rising.

"I've watched him. He's simple-minded and boring. Not a man for you."

Runa's balled her fists. "It's not _your_ choice who's for me, is it?"

Samuel folded his arms over his chest. "He's done nothing for you," he shot back without thinking.

Runa stood, staring Samuel in the face. "Nothing? When my father died, he protected my mother and I. Provided for us. He's a man of loyalty and compassion."

"You wouldn't even have had a father if it weren't for me."

Runa flung her hand out at him. "I can't believe you're so arrogant."

Samuel unfolded his arms and gestured around the room and to the ceiling. "All this was to be mine! I gave it to you."

Runa narrowed her eyes. "You didn't have anything to do with..."

"Constance asked _me_ to meet your parents. She was going to take _me_ to the inn. I made her take you instead so you'd get out of that awful place!"

Runa blinked and her face paled. "That explains...They said they needed a blacksmith, but had been convinced otherwise..." She put a hand to her lips, stared at him, then walked forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I didn't know...I'm sorry."

Samuel shrugged off her arm. "I need a drink." He stomped out the door and through the basement, ignoring Runa calling his name. He ignored Haming and Ely still at the table and left the home, marching towards The Chopping Block.

He entered to find the place lively, the night patrons drinking the day of work away. He passed Merek at the bar. "Hey, night off, boy," the owner called out.

Samuel ignored him and made for the backroom with the food stores. He swiped a bottle of ale off a shelf, uncorked it and took a long swig. He sat down in a chair in front of a fire with a cooking pot over it and then took another swig. He'd never intended to tell her the truth, hadn't wanted her to think she was second choice or to second guess her ability to be a blacksmith. But she had to know that Haming hadn't done anything near what he had for her.

Samuel heard the sound of footsteps, then Merek's voice. "Woman trouble?"

Samuel continued to gaze into the fire. "How do you know?"

Merek chuckled and Samuel heard the sound of a chair's legs scraping the floor. Merek came into view, setting the chair next to him. "I knows it when I see it. Run this place long enough t'see it a lot." Samuel didn't speak, just downed the rest of the ale.

"Easy," Merek advised. "Won't make you think better. Might even make you do somethin' stupid."

Samuel turned angry eyes on the owner, then back to the fire. "I don't think I can stay here," he murmured. How could he watch the only girl, the only _woman_, he'd ever cared for wasting her affections on an simple hunter.

"Ah, now, don't run away. You want to be a real man, ya fight for her."

Samuel looked over at him. "Fight for her?"

"I don't mean literally, of course. She loves that other one, yeah, the hunter?"

Samuel narrowed his eyes. "How do you know..."

Merek smiled widely. "I observe. Anyway, stay. Can't do no harm. Stay long enough that she sees who the real man is."

"Thought you said women weren't worth the trouble."

Merek laughed. "They ain't for me. But after watchin' you, I'd say you'd be willing to do just about anything to get that girl." He stood and walked back to the main room.

Samuel fingered the ale bottle. Fight for her. Make her see him as a real man. He tapped the ale bottle against his chair. Who was he kidding? Runa was stubborn. Once she had her heart set on something, she'd get it, and she wanted Haming.

Samuel put a hand to his trimmed beard, rubbing his chin. Haming...Everything would be different if Haming were out of the picture. He lowered his hand and stared intently into the fire. Haming wouldn't leave of his own accord, but perhaps he could be _made_ to.


	7. Dilemma

The next few days were awkward between Samuel and Runa. Samuel would have liked Runa to yell at him, argue with him, get angry at him, something like that instead of what she did. She drew away from him, speaking to him only when she had to and not letting him get too near her. He hated that she seemed afraid of him now. He blamed himself. He shouldn't have told her she got a family because of him. He should have kept his peace and let her come close to him on her own instead of trying to force it by making her indebted to him. Samuel was sure he had blown any chance he had with her. He'd thought about leaving her home, but he couldn't do that. Her home was technically _his_ home, would have been by rights anyway. He wouldn't leave no matter how uncomfortable it made her.

As Runa withdrew, Samuel's anger towards Haming grew. Everything would have been fine if the blasted hunter hadn't been the fly in the ointment. He was an obstacle that needed to be removed, the pebble in the horse's foot. But Samuel hadn't figured out how to remove him...yet. Everything he contemplated led to one answer and even in his anger he was terrified of it.

He climbed the stairs to breakfast one morning and found Ely alone. She nodded to him and he sat down at the table to eat. "Where's everyone else?" he asked while chewing a biscuit.

Ely continued to wash plates and didn't look back at him. "In the smithy."

Samuel slowed his chewing. Runa was alone with Haming again, then. What did she see in the hunter? Samuel had observed him keenly and could find nothing of such value that Haming would catch her interest.

Samuel picked up his second biscuit and stood. "I'll take lunch at the inn today," he said. He'd told Merek he'd come in and help out with the lunch crowd. Ely nodded as Samuel left the house. He walked carefully to the edge of the smithy, wanting to listen before being seen.

"You just came back last week," Runa was saying.

"I know. Cedric's having a big banquet, people coming in for it. He wants the best cuts. I'll earn a good bit of coin." Samuel slowly smiled. So Haming was going hunting again. Good.

"I don't want to be alone here," Runa pleaded.

Samuel grit his teeth.

"You have Ely and Samuel."

"I...I know...but..."

Samuel's chest constricted. Would Runa tell Haming about their argument?

"There's nothing to worry about," Haming assured her.

"I want you near me."

"Soon. I almost have enough money to decorate the upper loft and...buy a bigger bed."

Samuel ground his teeth.

Runa laughed softly. "You shouldn't say things like that with mother nearby!"

"She's washing up," Haming defended. "Runa...this trip will bring in the money I need. The faster I go, the sooner you'll never have to live without me again."

Samuel's pulse raced.

"Go then," Runa spoke so lowly Samuel hardly heard her. "And come back as soon as you can."

"I will."

Samuel heard a rustling and quiet and assumed they were embracing. His mind whirled. Haming needed just this hunting trip to make the money and claim Runa as his forever. He couldn't let him do this. He needed more time. He strode into the smithy, acting and not thinking.

Runa pulled back from Haming when she saw Samuel. "Oh. Samuel. Good morning."

Samuel nodded once.

Haming turned to him. "Morning."

Samuel gestured at Haming's sword and bow. "Going hunting again?"

Haming nodded. "Got a big order. It's challenging, but I like a challenge."

"Need help?"

Haming looked over to Runa, then turned back to Samuel. "Uh...I wouldn't mind the help, but do you hunt?"

Samuel felt chagrined. "I've...hunted small game. But I can shoot well."

Haming nodded. "That's true. I guess it couldn't hurt. Sure, come along."

"I'll be right back. I need to talk to Merek."

"Alright."

Samuel turned on his heel, walking towards the inn. He wasn't sure why he had offered to go along. Actually, he feared to answer the question why. He didn't trust himself. But he'd seen the way Runa looked at him when he said he'd go with Haming. She was relieved. She wouldn't have to be around him and that alone inspired all the desire he needed to get Haming one on one.

Samuel strode through the inn door and straight up to Merek at the bar. "I'm going to be out of town for a few days."

"What?" Merek asked, thumping a clean glass down on the bar.

"Look, I know you've got Quinn to help you." Quinn was a new boy, young, but hardworking. "He can fill in for the next few days."

"Where you goin'?" Merek asked, staring at him intently.

"Hunting."

"Hunting? You?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

Merek slowly smiled. "Gonna talk to the hunter man to man, eh?"

Samuel swallowed. "Maybe."

"I get it. But...you ain't skippin' out on me? You'll be back?"

"I'll be back."

"Just so's I know I ain't losing my number one man."

Samuel laughed shortly. "I'm not near that important to you and you know it."

"You're more important than you know. Good help's hard to find. Just promise me you'll be back."

"I already said I would," Samuel insisted.

"Fine, then. Go kill whatever you need to."

Samuel turned back around to exit the inn, Merek's last words ringing in his ears.

* * *

Samuel crouched down next to Haming when the hunter gestured downwards with his palm. They'd been tracking an elk since the morning. Haming had shown him the indications that it was near: light tracks, broken limbs and pine needles knocked off overhead branches. Samuel had to work to not be impressed. Haming was patient to a fault. He would have made a good thief if he'd ever been bent that way. He moved carefully to the prey, sensing its patterns and waiting for the right moment of attack. Even so, Samuel had no desire to make hunting his own way of life. It was annoying that your prey kept moving. At least in thieving you usually knew what you were after and approximately where it was located.

"See him?" Haming whispered under his breath. "Flash of horn over there."

Samuel nodded.

"You do it."

Samuel firmed his jaw. He'd been out with Haming for two days and so far he'd only managed to kill rabbits. Haming was the better shot by far when it came to real game. Samuel had perhaps annoyed the deer, but Haming knew where to aim and how animals behaved. He was good at his work. Samuel nodded. He wanted to take just _one _down.

Samuel held his bow out, fitted the arrow, drew.

"Remember. Behind the back-line of the front leg."

Samuel aimed as Haming had explained. He felt his hand along his jaw. Patience...patience...he let the arrow fly. The elk bolted and Samuel angrily dropped the bow. But Haming whooped. "Got him!" Indeed, the elk had only taken two steps after turning and was down. "Good work."

"Thanks," Samuel muttered. He was proud he'd earned Haming's praise and this annoyed him.

Samuel followed Haming, then helped him haul the animal back to Haming's wagon. So far they had two deer, the elk and a plethora of rabbits. Haming sighed and wiped his brow. "Let's get back to camp and dress it."

Samuel climbed up next to the hunter as he jumped in and took the reins, directing his horse back to their base camp. "Do we have enough?" Samuel questioned.

"I'd like one more elk," Haming said, eyes on the forest. "I need the pay."

Yes. The pay. One more elk and then back to Helgen. Then Haming would get his coin, pay for the decorating of his loft and bring Runa into his home. A few times in the last two days, Samuel had thought if circumstances were different, Haming could have been a friend, but that couldn't happen, not when Runa was involved. Samuel had given up his chance for a good home; he wouldn't give up the only woman he'd ever cared for.

Samuel's hand brushed the dagger under his cloak. The last two nights he'd stared at Haming when he went to sleep. He hadn't attempted to talk the hunter out of his desire for Runa. Samuel was sure he wouldn't back off if asked. That left only one option. It would be so easily done. He could dump the body in the river, weight it with rocks, and no one would be the wiser. Or he could say Haming had fallen into the river going after prey.

Samuel jumped down when the wagon made it back to camp and helped the hunter pull out the elk. Haming then went to work dressing the animal. Or maybe Haming could fall on his own sword. An accident in the hunt. Samuel rubbed his hand over his face. He'd never killed a man. He'd never been tasked with such a thing. It was a good thing. Every time he thought like this, his stomach rejected him. He knew that the only way to get Haming out of the picture forever was to make sure he didn't return from this hunt. Samuel had no leverage, all he had was his dagger and bow.

Dinner that night was a bit of roasted elk. Samuel ate slowly.

"Dig in," Haming encouraged. "He was your kill."

"I'm not hungry," Samuel said.

"Suit yourself."

Samuel contemplated the hunter. Why did he have to be so decent? If he was beating Runa or forcing her will, he could have killed him in a heartbeat.

Haming said nothing else. They hadn't been chummy this trip. Neither had much in common, really, and Samuel was so preoccupied with his own thoughts he didn't initiate conversation. Haming finished, then bedded down for the night, wishing Samuel a good sleep. Samuel nodded as he picked at his meat. The hunter went to sleep in minutes. Samuel had noted how easy it was for him to nod off at night.

Samuel set his meat down. He worked his jaw for a time, his heart pounding. He withdrew his dagger and slowly crept up to Haming's bedroll. The hunter lay on his back, mouth slightly open, breathing in and out deeply. A quick slice across the throat. How hard could it be? Samuel stalled. He should do it quickly, before he lost his nerve. He couldn't make his arm move. He looked down. His dagger shook, his hand trembling.

Samuel blinked, then turned, shoving the dagger back into its sheath. He walked over to a tree and kicked it, then leaned against it, staring at the hunter. He couldn't do it. His grey heart wouldn't let him. Brynjolf would mock him if he could see him. He knew the Guildmaster had killed before. Not on a job, as far as Samuel knew, but he'd said there were times it had to be done.

Samuel glanced back over at the slumbering Haming. Thieving was a way to even the score in an unfair world, Brynjolf had said. And killing was the same, he'd added once when Samuel had inquired about the Thieves Guild's ties to the Dark Brotherhood. "We even by spreading out the wealth; they do it by meting out death." Samuel stewed inside, Brynjolf's voice arguing with him as he made his way to his own bedroll. He lay down and closed his eyes against the fire and the hunter on the other side.

* * *

By mid-afternoon the next day they still hadn't found any elk. Samuel could tell Haming was getting frustrated. Samuel didn't care. He was still trying to figure out some way to delay Haming's marriage to Runa. He'd been tortured all night by his cowardice to do what needed to be done and his grey heart questioning the rightness of even thinking such thoughts. He was tired and irritable.

"Finally!" Haming declared. He turned to Samuel and pointed to the ground. Samuel moved close to him and saw an elk's tracks. Haming scanned the surrounding forest. He pointed at some broken low lying branches. "Up this way."

Samuel lagged behind and soon lost sight of the hunter. _You can't do it. You're a failure. Runa doesn't care one snitch about you._ Samuel clenched his hands into fists. If she only knew how much he cared about her, all he'd gone through to try and live without her. How it had been enduring two more years of Grelod just so she could have a family.

A cry cut the air, then a shout of, "Back! Back!"

Samuel raced ahead and froze when he saw Haming several yards ahead. A bear was reared up on its hind legs in front of the hunter, growling loudly. Haming stood against rock, barred in on all sides. He had his sword drawn, but his bow and quiver lay behind the bear, ripped off, Samuel presumed. He could see part of Haming's back had been exposed. He must have been attacked from behind.

Samuel quickly drew his own bow and an arrow, heart pounding. He notched the arrow and pulled back as far as he could, aiming for the bear Haming slashed at. _This is your chance, lad,_ Brynjolf's voice sounded in his mind. Samuel hesitated. He didn't have to kill Haming. The bear could do it. Samuel shook as Haming jumped back from the bear when it snapped his jaws at him.

"Shoot him!" Haming yelled, glancing at Samuel.

_If I hadn't come, he would have been attacked anyway. He was fated to die._ Samuel's mind raced. _It was fate. Only fate_.The bear swiped a hand at the hunter and Haming's sword tumbled out of his grip. He looked to Samuel again. Samuel blinked, then lowered his bow. He felt sick to his stomach as Haming's face fell, horror and understanding gracing it. Samuel backed up the way he had come.

The bear growled ferociously. Samuel turned and ran. He couldn't hear this. Haming was shouting over the bear. Then there was a terrible scream of pain. Samuel's legs suddenly became jelly. He pitched forwards to the ground, catching himself with his palms. Haming continued to scream. Samuel shook and his stomach heaved. He looked to his right at the bow he'd dropped.

Samuel closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head clear. He opened them and snapped up the bow. He managed to get to his feet and run towards the sounds of death. Haming was under the bear when he reached him. Samuel drew an arrow, set it to the bow and fired. A direct hit in the bear's side. It let go its prey and turned to its side, pawing at it. Samuel had already let another arrow fly. This one hit the bear in the neck. It roared and stumbled backwards, then made for its attacker, charging towards Samuel. Samuel tried to aim for its chest as it came. He hit his mark. The bear collapsed and he backed up as it slid to a stop in front of him. He still snuffled, but someone cried out. Samuel looked up to see Haming, his sword slashing deep into the animal. The bear breathed once more and stilled.

Samuel blinked and looked over the beast at Haming. He was a mess. The back of his shirt and sleeves were ripped up, claw and bite marks dripping blood. He must have balled himself up when the bear had him in his grip. His hair was matted with blood, his forehead boasting a large cut. Samuel couldn't breathe. His chest ached. Haming was staring at him, his eyes a fury.

"We need to get back to town," Samuel whispered.

Haming stalked around the bear and right up to Samuel. Without any warning, a solid punch landed to Samuel's head. Samuel hit the ground, the side of his head throbbing. Before he could recover, a kick landed in his stomach and he doubled over. He felt his arms wrenched backwards. He struggled against the hunter, shocked that even in his state Haming was so strong.

"Let me up!" Samuel shouted.

"We're going back to town," Haming strained out. "And you're going bound."

Before Samuel knew it, Haming had trussed him up like one his game, hands bound behind his back, ankles tied together. The hunter dragged him by his wrists for several yards until he reached the wagon. He hefted Samuel into the back of it next to the felled elk wrapped in cheesecloth, breath shallow, chest heaving.

"I saved your life!" Samuel yelled.

Haming gripped the back of Samuel's head and thrust his face into Samuel's. "You...didn't want...to," he managed between labored breaths. Samuel noted how pale he was. He let Samuel fall back into the wagon and slammed the back gate. As the wagon began to move, Samuel fought against angry tears. He should have let the hunter die! What would Runa think of him now?

* * *

Samuel struggled against the hunter's secure bonds. He had to get out of here, before they made it to Helgen and Haming revealed the farce that he was. He wasn't sure how long they'd been in the wagon. It felt like hours and his wrists burned with twisting them so much. He heard a sudden shout and not from the front of the wagon, somewhere a ways ahead. He heard the pounding of a horse's hooves, then a shake and the wagon slowed.

"There's one in the back, too!" an accented voice called out.

Samuel heard the back of the wagon open and someone pulled at his ankles and drew him out of the wagon, setting him upright. He looked into the face of an older, weather-beaten Imperial soldier.

"You attacked by bandits?" the soldier asked.

Samuel glanced at the front of the wagon. Another soldier was sitting in the front, young and large. Haming must have been lying down on the seat; Samuel could see his hand peeking out from the side.

"Hey, Lief! How's the one in the front?"

"Alive...but not by much. This doesn't look like bandits."

The older soldier eyed Samuel suspiciously. Haming must have passed out at some point, Samuel realized, the horse pulling the wagon aimlessly. "Yes, bandits," Samuel spoke quickly, infusing as much confidence in his voice as he could. Samuel nodded to the wagon. "He was attacked by a bear and we tried to get back to Helgen, then bandits showed up. Tied me up and then he managed to fight them off."

The soldier's eyes widened. "Attacked by a bear _and_ bandits. You must have done something to make the divines mad. Why didn't your friend unbind you?"

"He fell unconscious," Samuel replied as if this were obvious.

"Brave man, your friend."

"Yeah," Samuel mumbled.

"Cassius! Help me!" the younger soldier, Lief, called out.

Cassius left Samuel standing bound and walked to the front of the wagon. Samuel hopped around the edge, resting against the side of the wagon to see the soldiers carrying Haming over to a horse. He was deathly pale, eyes closed. Lief mounted the horse and then lifted Haming up while Cassius helped from below.

"We'll catch up," Cassius said. Lief nodded and took off, galloping towards Helgen. The older soldier paced back over to Samuel, still regarding him warily. "So, need to get back to Helgen."

Samuel nodded. "Yes."

"I'll see you there," Cassius said as he started untying Samuel's wrists and ankles.

Samuel hesitated. "I don't need you to come along. I can get back on my own."

"No trouble," the soldier said. "I was headed to Helgen anyway. Reassignment."

Samuel knew that to protest again would rouse the soldier's suspicions. After he was free, the soldier gestured to the front of the wagon. Samuel climbed up and the soldier followed, snapping up the reins and slapping them against the horse's back to get it moving.

The road to Helgen was too long in Samuel's mind. He had too much time to think and worry. Haming could be dead when he arrived. Then Samuel would be in the clear to pursue Runa, but he already felt the burden of bitter guilt. He didn't know if he could live with himself if Haming died. But if he lived...then Runa would find out the truth. Samuel vacillated throughout the ride between wanting Haming to die and wanting Haming to live.

When they reached Helgen, Samuel directed the soldier to Runa's home. They climbed out of the wagon and Samuel walked to the door, but paused.

"Something wrong?" Cassius asked, eyes narrowed.

Samuel shot an angry look at the suspicious soldier. "I have to tell my friend's love that he might die."

The soldier raised his eyebrows. Samuel took a breath and entered the home, the soldier following behind. Runa was sitting at the table, a book open before her. Ely sat by the fire, sewing something. Runa looked up.

"You're back," she said, standing. Then she saw the soldier. She glanced over Samuel's shoulder out the door.

Samuel swallowed. "There was...an attack."

Runa's eyes lit up with fear. Samuel felt his stomach lurch. He'd seen that look before―when Runa knew her doom and Grelod was about to beat her. "What...happened?"

"A bear attacked Haming."

"He's...he's...dead?" Runa's eyes were filling with tears.

"I don't know. Another soldier brought him back."

"So you know this man?" Cassius said, thumb jerking to Samuel.

Runa didn't answer, her hands to her mouth.

"He lives here," Ely answered instead. "He went hunting with Haming."

The soldier nodded to Runa. "I'm sorry, miss. Lief brought him here. I'd go to the alchemist's."

Runa rushed out the door, followed by Ely who had dropped her sewing into her chair.

"Guess you're telling the truth about the bear attack," Cassius said to Samuel.

Samuel jerked his head to him. "I am." Well, Haming _was_ attacked. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome." Cassius left the house, Samuel following him. The soldier headed to the barracks. Samuel plodded to the alchemist's.

When Samuel reached the young healer's residence, he saw the door was open. He peered inside. No one was in the main room. He paced inside and heard a commotion in a room to the right. He moved over to it, standing in the doorway. Haming lay on a bed, still pale. The alchemist was rubbing salves on his wounds.

"Is that enough?" Runa was asking. She was kneeling by the bed holding Haming's hand.

"I gave him a potion when he arrived as well," the young woman answered.

"Will he live?"

"He's not out of the woods, but I have hope," the alchemist spoke kindly.

Ely, who was standing behind Runa, put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I want to stay," Runa insisted.

"Of course you can," the alchemist said. "I'll be back with more salve." She stood and walked passed Samuel into the main room and across to a shelf.

Samuel pulled back from the door and walked over to her. "What do you really think? Will he survive?"

The young woman's hand froze on a jar and she looked over to him, her green eyes registering the first sign of indecision. "He's lost a lot of blood...I just...don't know." She went back to pulling down jars, then set them out on a table and began mixing ingredients.

Samuel walked back to the room. Runa's shoulders shook. She was crying. Samuel coughed from the doorframe. "I'm sorry, Runa," he muttered. She looked over to him, her cheeks wet with tears. "I'm sorry."

Runa nodded weakly and turned back to her love. Ely sat down in a chair, eyes moist, arms crossed tightly into her chest.

Samuel drew back from the door and walked away, exiting the alchemist's. He strode back to Runa's house, rushed down to the basement and retrieved his knapsack from the room they'd lent him. He climbed back up the stairs, left the building and walked to The Chopping Block. He stepped through the door. Merek was at a patron's table, but he looked over to see who he could entice next. His eyebrows raised when he saw Samuel. "Back earlier than I thought you'd be. How'd it go?"

Samuel blinked. "Not good. You have an empty room?"

Merek tilted his head at him. "Only the chopping room. You need..."

"I need time alone," Samuel spoke unequivocally.

Merek nodded thoughtfully. "You can stay in there unless someone claims it." Samuel walked towards the room. Merek grasped his arm as he passed. Samuel shook him off, annoyed. Merek spoke, voice low. "He won't leave your woman alone, eh?"

Samuel ground his jaw. "He was attacked by a bear. He may not live."

"Ah," Merek said. "Unfortunate."

"Yeah." Samuel turned and stomped to the end of the inn and the chopping room. He threw open the double doors, stepped through, then shut them just as forcefully. He dropped his knapsack on a table and then sank onto the large bed, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.


	8. Reckoning

Two days passed. Samuel stayed at the inn, trying to keep his mind off of Haming by working as much as he could. Merek didn't say much to him, but Samuel caught him glancing at him now and then. He fervently hoped the innkeeper hadn't guessed that he had been the indirect cause of Haming's state.

Neither Runa nor Ely came to see Samuel. He stopped by the alchemist's once each day. Runa was staying there, sleeping in a chair alongside her love. Samuel had told Ely he was staying at the inn, that they didn't need to care for him right now. Ely had thanked him gratefully. Samuel's guilt grew. He didn't stay at the inn for altruistic reasons. He knew if Haming did live and remembered what had happened, he might have to make a quick getaway. Logic told him to flee now, but he couldn't leave Runa.

The third night since the bear's attack, Samuel found himself alone again in the chopping room. No one had booked it for the night. Samuel lit a candle next to the bed that cast eerie shadows on the wall. It was after midnight. Merek had uncharacteristically sent everyone to bed and out the door early, grumbling about peace and quiet. Samuel figured everyone had their breaking point. Merek hadn't been in too good a mood the last few days. He supposed the innkeeper had his own troubles, though he'd never vocalized them.

Samuel laid back on the bed without changing into his night clothes. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, then stared at the ceiling. He'd alternated back and forth throughout the last few days feeling guilty for either almost getting Haming killed or not being able to finish the job. Sometimes he agreed with Brynjolf's voice, that some people had things coming to them and deserved to be taken advantage of. Other times he argued back and asked himself what was so wrong with him that he would even think of killing a human being. And over it all, the voice of a wrinkled crone he had long ago pushed aside whispered in his ear that he was worthless trash and would never be anything else.

Samuel pushed himself up on his elbows and swung his feet over the bed. This was useless, trying to sleep. He picked up the candle, stood and walked out into the darkened main room, then behind the bar, through the kitchen and to the storage room. He stared at the food in the larder. Merek was okay with him taking some as long as he remembered what he'd eaten and docked it from his pay. Samuel didn't know what he wanted as he stared blankly at the stores. Suddenly he heard a small knock on the back door. He left the storage room and walked to the back door off the kitchen. He cracked it open.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, opening the door widely.

Runa stood outside, face alight, smiling. "He's going to be alright. He's going to live."

Samuel's heart both rose and sank at the same time. "Oh. Good."

"Can I come in?"

Samuel glanced behind him. "Merek's asleep..."

Runa's gaze lowered apologetically. "I know I haven't been paying attention to you lately..."

Samuel waved a dismissive hand. "You had a good reason. I guess, just come in. Quiet, though."

Runa slipped in through the door and Samuel closed it as quietly as he could. "I was just getting something to eat."

He walked back to the larder, Runa following him. She didn't seem angry. Maybe Haming didn't remember what had happened. Or maybe he wasn't even awake yet. Samuel ran his eye over the food stores. He saw Runa sit on a stool with his peripheral vision.

"I didn't think the inn ever closed," Runa commented.

Samuel glanced at her. "Merek said he wanted peace and quiet. Don't know what's up with him. He's been pretty grumpy this week."

Runa reached out to a shelf. "You could eat this." She held out a sweet roll to him. Samuel raised his eyebrows at the treat. "Remember when Constance came and she brought them?"

Samuel nodded. He'd thought they might be getting some kind of rescue from Grelod, but it was not to be.

"Samuel...I've been thinking about what you told me...how you were supposed to be adopted, not me."

A sigh escaped Samuel's lips. "I shouldn't have said it."

"No, you should," Runa insisted, chestnut eyes staring at him intensely. "I've just realized how much you've done for me. In the orphanage...I know we were young, but I haven't forgotten when you were switched for something I did."

Samuel worked his jaw, trying to push away rising guilt.

"And then you gave up your adoption. And now...you saved Haming."

Samuel swallowed hard. Oh how he wanted this woman in front of him! "Haming's awake then?"

Runa nodded. "He hasn't said much. He's not really over the effects of the potions yet. But he said something about you shooting the bear trying to kill him."

Samuel wasn't sure if Haming just hadn't remembered the whole story yet or was so groggy he couldn't get it all out clearly. His heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest.

"He's had some strengthening potions," Runa added. "He should be up in a day. I came to thank you. I know it's not enough just to say it, I wish I could do more..."

"It's okay," Samuel whispered, his voice barely audible.

"And I wanted to show you something." Runa reached into her pocket and then handed an object to him.

Samuel took it and held it near the candle. It was a ring with a red jewel. He looked back at her. "You kept it?"

Runa smiled softly. "I didn't want to forget you."

Samuel looked down at the ring, the one he had stolen all those years ago for her when she was a child.

"You've done so much for me. I owe you. More than I can ever repay."

Samuel folded his hand around the ring, staring at the food stores. He needed Runa. She saw him as better than he was, better than he'd ever been. He'd done all those things for her love. He needed her love more than his own breath. Only she could silence the thoughts that plagued him.

"Runa..." Samuel turned to look at her. "I love you."

Runa's face fell and she stood up. "Samuel, I didn't mean...I already told you..."

Samuel gripped her right hand. "I need you. I need your love." Runa tried to pull her hand free, but Samuel had a firm grip. "You said you owe me. You _can_ repay it. We can face this world together. Like we did in Honorhall."

"No," Runa stated firmly. "I don't love you. I can't love you. Not the way you want me to."

Samuel angrily dropped her hand. "Why did you come here to tell me all that, then?"

"Because...I thought you'd understand...I'm grateful."

"But not enough," Samuel snorted.

"I think I should go," Runa said, backing up.

Samuel blocked her from leaving the storage room with his arm. "You don't know everything I've done for you." _I almost killed a man!_

Runa tilted her head, eyes wide. "Let me pass," she spoke firmly.

Samuel didn't budge. Heat had risen in his body and face. He knew if he let her go she'd be out that door and he'd never have another chance. "Give me a chance."

Runa's eyes had hardened. "There isn't a chance to be given."

Samuel's arm shook. He and Runa stared at each other for several moments, stubborn eyes locked. Suddenly he heard voices moving from the main room and towards the kitchen. One of them had an unmistakable accent. Samuel cursed and pushed Runa backwards in the store room.

"What are you..."

Samuel threw a hand over Runa's mouth, silencing her, a finger to his lips. He reached over to the candle he'd set on a shelf and snuffed it out with his fingers.

"You said he'd be here," the accented voice complained.

"He was. I didn't think he'd go out." Merek. Samuel ground his teeth. Merek was his betrayer.

"You have any idea where he's gone?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"I have an idea. He's in love. A woman. Resident blacksmith."

"Thomas. Go to the blacksmith's," the accented voice commanded. "Don't let him see you if he's there. Just come back and report."

Steps moved away and out the backdoor.

"He'll come back here sooner or later," Merek insisted.

"Even so, I mean to deal with him sooner rather than later."

There was a momentary pause. Runa pushed Samuel's hand off her mouth. "What did you do?" she mouthed more than whispered.

Samuel clenched his teeth. He leaned close to her ear. She might as well know the truth. He couldn't hide it now. "Ran away from the Thieves Guild."

Runa's eyes widened, then hardened. He read in them her disappointment he'd ever joined such a group. Samuel narrowed his own eyes at her. She didn't understand he'd had no choice. But fear also showed in her eyes, an understanding of the danger he was in.

"Are you hungry?" Merek asked.

"I could eat." It was the heavily accented voice of Brynjolf come to get his revenge. And Samuel was sure if he were caught, the Guildmaster would have it and then some.

Samuel heard footsteps coming towards the larder. He stood, gripping Runa's hand and yanking her to her feet. He couldn't wait any longer. He fled out of the room, bumping into Merek's shoulder and sending him sprawling. He bolted to the backdoor, opening it and out. But before he got more than a few feet, he felt Runa's hand yanked out of his own and a sharp scream. He looked back to see Brynjolf hauling her inside the inn.

"Run, Samuel!" she yelled out.

Samuel vacillated, his feet frozen. This was his one chance of escape. He couldn't go back in that inn. Brynjolf would let her go. He had to. He wouldn't kill an innocent. He couldn't...Or could he? Samuel run a hand over his face. No choice. _I have no choice. _He punched his left hand with his right fist and realized he was still holding the stolen ring. He glanced at it, stuffed it into his pocket and walked back to the inn. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and entered.

Brynjolf stood in the middle of the room, Runa drawn back against his frame, a knife held to her throat. Runa's eyes fell when she saw Samuel step back through the door. Merek rushed over and slammed the door shut, then shoved Samuel in the back and farther into the room.

"So, lad..."

"Brynjolf," Samuel stated.

"Guildmaster," Brynjolf snarled.

"You're not my master anymore," Samuel spoke quietly.

"Ah...but only because you ran. The act of a coward."

Samuel remained calm. "I didn't run this time."

"Only because of this one," Brynjolf said, pushing Runa with a knee.

"You have me. Let her go."

"She's seen Merek."

Samuel glanced at the "so-called" innkeeper. Merek shrugged. "Recognized your description when I first saw you. Told me your name. Unwise, boy."

Samuel looked to Brynjolf. "I didn't see any shadowmarks." Members of the Thieves Guild marked their residences with symbols to identify friendly places.

"As intended," Brynjolf replied. The why hit Samuel instantaneously. Brynjolf must have an inner circle, thieves not even known to the Guild. Clever.

Samuel gestured to Runa. "It's not like you to kill innocents."

Brynjolf's smile faded. He looked to Merek. "He's right. You're coming home."

"What? After all I've done to get established here? I built this place from the ground up."

"And it's served a purpose," Brynjolf said, glaring down the innkeeper. "She _has_ seen you. It's time for you to move on."

Merek ground his teeth, but submitted. "Understood."

"Tie him."

Merek walked over to a side counter, procuring some rope. He walked behind Samuel and bound his wrists behind his back. Samuel stared at Runa as he did so. Her eyes were moist. She'd lived in Riften. She had to know that the Thieves Guild was hardly merciful to traitors.

"Now her," Brynjolf commanded. He shoved Runa to Merek who likewise bound her. Brynjolf took charge of Samuel, holding his wrists. "Gag her as well." Samuel, worried what Brynjolf intended, pushed backwards into the Guildmaster. Brynjolf answered with a knee to his back. Samuel cried out and then crashed the ground as Brynjolf knocked his legs out from under him. He put a foot on Samuel's chest to hold him to the ground. "Lock her in the storage room. By the time someone finds her, we'll be long gone."

The backdoor opened. "I didn't see him at the blacksm...You have him." A young man came into view about Samuel's age. He had blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. He looked down at Samuel. "So, this is the one, huh?"

Samuel heard the door to the storage room close. Brynjolf removed his foot and hauled him up, grasping him under the shoulders. He gripped his bound hands and pushed him through the kitchen and the main room into the chopping room. Samuel's stomach twisted when the Guildmaster pushed him to the floor and slammed his neck onto the chopping block. He struggled. "Hold him!" Brynjolf ordered. The young man and Merek took over, pinning Samuel's legs to the floor and pushing down on his back.

Brynjolf drew his long sword. Samuel stared at him in wide-eyed fear. He spoke, his voice cracking. "Please. Don't kill me. Please."

"You've caused me months of trouble," Brynjolf said, pacing before the block. "Our patron has been on my hide about you and there isn't going to be any peace till we've dealt with you, lad."

Samuel trembled as Brynjolf stood next to the block and raised the sword. _No. I can't die like this. No._ Samuel felt his whole miserable life flashing before his eyes. The sword came down―and lightly tapped his neck. Brynjolf laughed. "Get off him." He pulled Samuel to a stand. Samuel swayed on his feet. "You have no courage." He pushed Samuel back onto the bed. "Now that you're weak enough..."

Samuel heard the uncorking of a bottle and felt someone supporting his back, pushing up slightly. A bottle was held to his lips. He didn't want to drink, but found he didn't have the strength not to. He coughed and spluttered but the bitter drink went down nonetheless. He was dropped back onto the bed. Brynjolf leaned over him. "You aren't mine to dispose of, but by the end of this, you'll wish you hadn't run out on me."

Samuel felt a fog drift into his brain. His muscles relaxed and he found he didn't care what happened to him anymore. The room went dark.

* * *

Samuel didn't know how long he spent in a drugged stupor. Now and then he seemed to wake, brief images flashing through his mind―sunlight streaming through trees, Brynjolf in front of a fire in Imperial armor, voices mumbling. His clearest memory came one day when he felt himself propped up against a hard surface. Brynjolf was looking down at him and smiling, holding two fingers in front of Samuel's face. Samuel saw the ruby ring he'd stolen years ago between them.

"You kept it. Foolish, lad. You could have sold it for quite a sum. Why even steal it in the first place? Will fetch a pretty bit of coin for me, eh?"

Samuel had tried to lift a hand and snatch it back, but his arms were lead. He drifted off again.

A few more foggy moments came to Samuel, food stuffed into his mouth which he ate mechanically, bumping up and down and staring at a road below him, someone questioning Brynjolf and a reply of "The Empire gets its due." Then a period of darkness, though the length wasn't clear to him. All he knew was he found himself coming fully awake in a dark room. His arms and legs lightened, his stomach growled. He blinked trying to get his bearings but he felt entirely weak. For a moment, he was confused until memory came back to him, how Brynjolf had found him, tied him up and drugged him. Samuel craned his neck to look around the room. Only a fraction of it was visible, light creeping in through a cracked door in front of him. He ascertained that he lay on a dirt floor, wrists and ankles still bound. He was alone, but only just. Voices drifted in through the door.

"Took you long enough to find him," a feminine voice chided.

"He was skilled. I trained him myself." Brynjolf.

"Choose better next time."

The door opened farther and Samuel snapped his eyes shut. He heard footsteps, then someone nudged him with a toe. He didn't respond. Then a foot kicked mightily into his back and he couldn't help but grunt. "He's awake."

Samuel opened his eyes to glare at the young man smiling wickedly down on him, the same one he'd seen with Brynjolf at the inn. More footsteps and Samuel was hauled up on his feet and roughly turned to face Brynjolf standing before him. "Reckoning time, lad," he drawled.

Samuel heard a chair dragged across the floor from the other room into his dark one. He glanced at the door to see a shadowed figure's face obscured by a black veil. It was a woman by her dress and figure. She carried a candle that lightened the room. She placed it on the wall on a shelf. Samuel saw now that the room was empty save for the chair that had been set up inside the door. She sat down in the chair then waved quickly to Brynjolf. Brynjolf dragged Samuel over to her, then shoved his shoulders down, forcing him to kneel before the woman.

Samuel stared at the veiled woman as she reached up and pulled back her covering. He gulped. He'd never talked to her personally, but knew her―Maven Black-Briar, the most influential and dangerous figure in all the Rift and made even more powerful when she became Jarl after the end of the civil war. Her face was stone, her eyes burned and her countenance spoke death. Samuel trembled unwillingly.

"I see you know me."

Samuel said nothing and got a shove in the back because of it. "Answer her," Brynjolf commanded.

"I know you," Samuel confirmed.

Maven smiled slowly, eyes moving from fire to cold in seconds. "Perhaps you did not know that I own the Thieves Guild." There was a slight growl behind Samuel and Maven's eyes snapped to the Guildmaster behind him. "Don't forget that _my_ support has kept you operating, Brynjolf. You need me."

"And you need us," the Guildmaster replied.

"I won't deny our mutual benefit. But the fact remains that _you_ are at my beck and call."

Brynjolf didn't reply and Samuel took this to mean that Maven told the truth, that she held the Thieves Guild in the palm of her hand. Samuel had always known the Black-Briars didn't interfere with the Guild and sometimes employed their services, but he hadn't imagined how deep their tie really was.

"And you brought me this one," Maven went on, turning her eyes back on Samuel, "to appease me and redeem yourself."

Samuel's heart thumped. If Maven owned the Guild, then he must be answering to her for his crime. He'd been terrified to be in the hands of Brynjolf―but being in the hands of this fierce Jarl he assumed was a far worse fate.

"Have you told him his crime?" Maven asked, eyes flashing back to Brynjolf. She must have received a negative response, because she gestured at Samuel and said, "Explain it to him."

Brynjolf paced around to stand in front of Maven and above Samuel. Samuel looked up at the Guildmaster that had once been his friend and mentor. Byrnjolf's eyes were cold and distant. "You wanted an important job. I gave you my best, lad, a Jarl's job. You didn't just fail me, you failed her."

Samuel's chest tightened. He tried to keep the fear from his face. Why hadn't Brynjolf told him the job was for the Jarl?

"And _no one_ fails me and gets away with it," Maven snarled. Brynjolf moved to Maven's right, standing with his arms crossed beside her chair as she scowled down at Samuel. "I would have had Southern Eastmarch at my mercy if you'd delivered. Now there's nothing but suspicions. Rumors I'm hiring thugs to intimidate important people."

Samuel swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to attack him..."

Brynjolf snorted. "That's rich, lad, after the fact. You did it, you meant it."

Samuel remembered the cowering boy that he'd tried to defend by his actions, a boy so like him at one time. Yes, he had meant it.

"I should never have trusted a grey-heart!"' Brynjolf snarled, gesturing at him.

Samuel bowed his head. His grey heart. That's all he'd been all his life. He'd swung back and forth, never sure where to land, in the orphanage giving things up for Runa, then yelling at her. Agreeing to work for Brynjolf, then throwing it all to the wind. Tracking Runa down to see how she was, then trying to kill her love. His grey heart had been his bane all his life. If he had only been able to come down on one side or the other.

"I hid it," Samuel whispered.

Maven grasped his jaw and jerked his chin up. "You hid the platter?"

Samuel nodded.

Brynjolf shook his head. He guessed the Guildmaster thought he'd sold it, just like he'd assumed about Ingun's ring. But he hadn't. He may have failed the Guild, but he hadn't been able to compound it by selling the goods. Grey heart again.

"Where is it?" Maven growled.

Samuel gathered his courage. This was his only bargaining power. "I'll show you, but I want a deal."

Maven's eyes glimmered and she laughed loudly and sharply. "I don't make deals with hirelings." Her fingernails dug into his jaw. He winced. "I don't _need_ to make a deal." She let him go and called out, "Brom!" A large man with clear blue, disconcerting eyes marched into the room. His chest was bare and boasted enormous muscles. Maven gestured to him. "Brom gets the information I want when people aren't so...cooperative."

Samuel's heart pounded his rib cage.

"Brom, take this young man to..."

"I buried it!" Samuel blurted out.

"Ah, that's better," Maven spoke sardonically. "Where? And listen, Brynjolf, you'll be retrieving it."

"There's a tree along the south road from the mansion," Samuel explained. "It's alone with a field of blue flowers around it. It's buried behind that tree." Samuel wasn't quite sure why he'd buried the platter. He'd never intended to go back for it. He noticed Brynjolf looking at him, eyes disappointed. Samuel read Brynjolf's thoughts, that he indeed, was nothing but a coward. He'd given in to Maven so easily.

"If you are lying..."

"I'm not," Samuel insisted.

Maven waved to Brynjolf. "See to it."

Brynjolf bowed his head to her, then left with Thomas, sending only a final dismissive glance Samuel's way. Samuel heard a door open and close in the room next door. Maven continued to contemplate him. Samuel felt his fear heighten now that he was alone with the Jarl and her muscular lackey.

"You can take him," she commanded. Brom walked over to Samuel and gripped his shoulders painfully, hauling him off the floor.

"I didn't lie!" Samuel shouted as the man dragged him to the door.

"Probably not," Maven agreed as she stood and followed them into the main room. "But as I already told you, no one fails me and escapes." Brom paused as Maven came around to the front, ignoring Samuel and looking to her man. "Don't kill him yet. Once I have what's mine, I'll send word. Until then, teach him what it means to defy the Jarl of the Rift."

Maven slipped her veil back on and exited through a door. Samuel caught a glimpse of the outdoors, a breath of fresh air, then the door slammed closed. Brom pushed him across the room. Samuel struggled, especially when they reached stairs descending below the cabin or house or shack or whatever this was. Samuel presumed if he went down the stairs he wouldn't be coming back. He pushed and yanked, but the man held firm. He managed to get his head around and bit down on the man's hand. The man yowled, then Samuel felt a fist in the side of his head and he tumbled down the stairs. He groaned, feeling bruises raise on his body, then he was being dragged again, Brom hauling him backwards by his wrist bonds. Samuel shook his head, trying to shake off the vicious hit to his head, seeing as he did that they were passing jail cells. Most were empty. One held a skeleton. Where was he? What was this place?

Brom stopped, another door opened and Samuel was pulled inside.

"This the one?" a gravelly voice asked.

"Get him ready."

Brom relinquished hold of Samuel to the owner of the new voice, a scrawny man with bedraggled black hair. Samuel thrashed as the new man pulled him towards a line of shackles on the far wall. The sight made him recall how Grelod used to chain him up sometimes in the punishment room. She'd beaten him at times when he was locked down and at her mercy, especially early on when he was six or seven. But he knew Grelod's punishment would be nothing compared to what he was about to get.

"Feisty, ain't he?" the scrawny man cackled. Samuel felt a kick in his shins and he fell to the floor, then another kick landed in his back. The man's thin and wrinkled face smiled down at him. "You're gonna be fun, ain't ya?" He looked over his shoulder. "Gonna need help with him."

Brom came over and undid Samuel's wrist bonds, holding him tightly as they pulled off his shirt. The large man then held onto him while the other unfastened the wall shackles. Before he could even put up a fight, Brom heaved his knee into Samuel's stomach. Samuel felt he would vomit. He was pulled over and his wrists secured in the shackles. They were mounted low enough he could just barely kneel on the ground. He felt heat rise in his cheeks when the men next removed his pants leaving him in nothing but his undergarments.

Brom walked across the room followed by the other man. "He's not going to be fun," Samuel heard the large man's deep voice declare.

"He won't?"

"Look at him. He won't hold up under much."

The scrawny man glanced back at Samuel, looking him up and down. They had stopped at a table on the far side littered with instruments of torture. Samuel's chin trembled. Memories came flooding back, pain and abuse at the hands of Grelod and then out of nowhere, Aventus, how he'd endured the witch without a sound until she'd whipped him. Samuel's gaze ran along the table. He'd never been able to keep from crying out when beaten by Grelod; how could he ever manage it now?

"And she doesn't want him killed, not yet," Brom added, looking pointedly into the other man's face.

"Humph. No fun at all." The scrawny man walked up and down the table. "What should we start with then?" Samuel watched as he picked up a vicious looking whip with chinks of metal in the ends. Samuel felt his hands shaking. "I wonder how many lashes he could take till he wouldn't need them anymore?"

"I said we aren't killing him yet!" Brom shouted. He handed a long metal object to the man. "Start slow. She may want to talk to him before the end."

Samuel watched as the scrawny man smiled at him again as he walked with the stick-like object to a fire and set it in. Samuel closed his fists, trying to control the involuntary shaking of his hands. What had he gotten himself into? Why did he go back to the inn? Runa would have been alright, wouldn't she? Samuel felt sudden tears in his eyes and cursed inside, closing his eyelids against them. He'd given up everything for her so many times and now again and he'd die for it. _Was it worth it?_ an elderly hag's voice taunted him. _Was she worth it? You're weak, suckling._

Laughter sounded above him. Samuel opened his eyes. The scrawny man stood over him, the hot iron rod gleaming in front of him. "You're one that breaks down in a hurry." Samuel's chest rose and fell rapidly. Brom had disappeared, no longer in the room. "Bet you can't take much before you beg for mercy." The man slowly and deliberately pushed the iron rod into Samuel's right pectoral. Samuel bit down and his entire body shook. He didn't want this man who delighted in torture to get any satisfaction from him. But he only lasted seconds, then a scream ripped from him and he gagged on the smell of his burnt flesh. The man laughed again, then aimed for the left side of his chest. Samuel pushed back against the wall, trying to get away even though he knew he couldn't. The rod came closer. He could feel the heat that preceded the searing pain.

The man suddenly stiffened and his eyes went wide. His arm dropped and the iron rod clattered to the floor. He fell forward to the ground. Samuel still shook, aftereffects of his burn, but stared in disbelief. The man had an arrow protruding out his back, right where his heart would be. Samuel's gaze jerked to the door and the last person he'd ever expected to see stood in its doorway.

Haming stamped his way over to Samuel and knelt down before him, rummaging through the fallen man's pockets. He withdrew a key and stared up at Samuel. Samuel stared uncertainly back. His eyes were drawn to a large, fresh scar across the hunter's forehead. Haming slowly stood. He put the key in one of the shackles, releasing Samuel's right wrist. He moved over to the other shackle. "I don't know how much time we have."

Samuel's left wrist was free. Haming turned immediately and walked brusquely to the door of the room. Samuel gathered up his shirt, pants and shoes and followed. Outside the room they passed Brom on the floor, two arrows in his chest, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Haming entered one of the prison cells, the one with the skeleton. Samuel followed warily. Haming walked through the back wall. Samuel squinted―a hidden tunnel. He moved forward and into the tunnel. Haming stopped and turned back. "Better shut it."

Samuel looked behind, noticing a lever next to the hidden door. He pulled it and a slab slid back into place covering the entrance. By the time he turned around, Haming was several yards down the tunnel. Samuel followed, still unsure of the hunter's appearance. Was he dreaming this? Was it possible he had succumbed to the torture and was delirious? But no, this felt too real. They walked for a couple minutes, then Haming stopped and turned, leaning against a wall next to a ladder, his arms crossed over his chest. Samuel stepped up across from him.

"Dress," Haming commanded.

Samuel did so, wincing when he put on his shirt and the fabric brushed his burn.

"Now we talk," Haming said unequivocally once Samuel was clothed.

Samuel swallowed and leaned back against the wall opposite Haming.

"Imagine my surprise when I awoke and was visited by a soldier who congratulated me for taking on both a bear and bandits and living to tell the tale."

Samuel put a hand to his chin, rubbing his beard. "It wasn't my idea. They assumed it."

"And you went along with it."

Samuel nodded once. There was a time of silence. "You're looking...well," Samuel ventured, uncomfortable that the hunter was still keeping him down here.

Haming narrowed his eyes.

"Uh...how'd you find me?"

"I know the Rift. I lived with my grandfather here."

"You knew about this place."

"No. But I tracked you and saw the cabin. Evidence of too much traffic to the hidden entrance."

"Ah." Samuel shifted nervously against the wall. He could think of only one reason Haming had come after him. "You want your own revenge, then?"

Haming's brown eyes stared him down. "I'm not here to get back at you. I'm here to rescue you."

Samuel cocked his head. "I don't und...Why?"

"Because I love her and you mean a lot to her."

Samuel felt heat in his cheeks. The man he had almost let die had come for him because he loved Runa. He could see it all now, Haming awaking, Runa telling him about Samuel being taken, Haming coming after him.

"You don't even know how much she looks up to you, do you?"

Samuel blinked his eyes and looked away from Haming.

"You had the respect of a good woman, but that couldn't be enough for you. You wanted to take her love."

Samuel kept his head turned away.

"You can't make someone love you. You can't force them to your side."

Samuel snapped his head around. "I know that!"

"Do you? I'm grateful to you for helping Runa. I know how you took a beating for her, gave up an adoption for her and went back to the inn so she'd be safe. And maybe there is some kind of love in that, but just because you did those things for her doesn't mean she owes you love."

Samuel glared at Haming. Runa had clearly told him everything about their past and their conversation in the larder.

Haming pointed to the ladder. "She's out there waiting for us." Samuel glanced at the ladder, suddenly full of fear. "She made me take her with me. She wanted to come down here, but I wouldn't let her. I won't lose her."

Samuel looked back at Haming's dead set eyes. He hated this man in front of him, not anymore because he had Runa's love but because he was so worthy of it.

"And I didn't tell her what you did on the hunting trip. It would only hurt her."

Haming gripped the ladder and began to climb. Samuel watched him go, chagrined. Haming didn't have a grey heart. His was all white. He was exactly what Runa deserved.

Samuel climbed up after Haming, passing through an opening in the ground. It was night and the area was covered by brush. He looked around. He could see the windows of the cabin several yards away. He instinctively crouched down. Haming had as well to his left and waved for Samuel to follow him. They moved for quite some time until a fire came into view. Haming straightened. Samuel rose but was stopped from moving forward by Haming who put a solid hand in his chest. "Sometimes when you love someone, you have to let them go."

Samuel could hardly see the hunter in the dim light from a cloud-covered moon. Haming turned abruptly and walked to the fire. Samuel approached slowly and saw Runa stand up on the other side of the fire.

"Is he..."

Haming gestured back at Samuel. Runa looked to him, then rushed around the fire and put her arms around him. Samuel grunted, but didn't embrace her as Haming was staring them down.

"He's wounded," Haming mentioned.

Runa pulled back. "Are you? Come with me." She took his hand and pulled him over to a log placed beside the fire. Samuel sat down next to her as she picked up a knapsack. He saw Haming lock eyes with him and nod his head to Runa pointedly, then he walked away to a horse at the edge of the clearing.

"Show me where," Runa said.

Samuel pulled off his shirt and Runa blinked back tears when she saw the long, deep burn. "It doesn't hurt much," Samuel tried to assure her.

"Liar," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. She pulled a salve out of her pack. She opened the jar, put some on her fingers and then reached over to him. "I don't want to hurt you..."

"Go ahead," Samuel said, biting down. Runa rubbed the salve on his wound. It stung, but Samuel worked not to show his pain. After a time, the sting lessened. Runa dropped her hand.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It was my fault. You shouldn't have come back for me."

Samuel remembered all those years ago when he was a confused child on his hands and knees pulling weeds and Runa had tried to gently touch his bruised foot. He glanced across at Haming, the hunter's words about love a knife in his heart. "It wasn't your fault. I failed the Guild, not you."

"Why did you even join them?" Runa asked.

"I had no other choice," Samuel explained. "What else could I do?"

Runa slowly nodded. "You're right. I know. It doesn't matter now. You're safe." Runa kept staring at him. Samuel grew uncomfortable, unsure what to say to her.

"Samuel, I thought about us a lot on the way here. About you..."

Samuel let out a soft breath, looking down at the log. Did he even want to hear what she would say?

Runa put a hand over his that rested on the log. He could feel the callouses of her blacksmith work. "I'm sorry I can't give you what you want...Maybe what you need."

Samuel fought the ache in his chest.

"I thought you'd escaped Honorhall like I had, but you haven't and it's not your fault."

Samuel looked up at her. "I did get out. Fourteen, sixteen, who cares what age."

Runa sadly shook her head. "You got away from there, but it's still with you. I can't imagine what it was like to live your whole life there."

"I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity, it's a fact. You lived there for so long. I remember how she talked to you, the things she said to you. You were never loved. Never learned to love."

Samuel didn't like this conversation. It was too blunt. He'd never thought of his life like some failure to love. "You taught me," he whispered.

Runa smiled sadly at him. "I guess I didn't see at the time how you felt. But I think there was something of love in your actions, the things you did for me. Maybe I did help. But your love now, Samuel, it's selfish. And when love is selfish, it's not really love at all."

"How do you even know what I feel?" Samuel grumbled.

"You told me. You said I owed you."

Samuel bowed his head. He shouldn't have said it, but he knew it was exactly how he felt. He'd fixated on Runa, the one person he'd loved his entire life. The woman who could make him better than he was, who could make him more than a grey heart. How could he just let her go?

"Samuel..." Runa squeezed his hand. "Don't let Grelod win. Don't let the Thieves Guild win. You can be better than them. I know you can."

Samuel swallowed as he contemplated her hand and its roughened feel against his own. For so long his mind and heart had been ruled by the dark forces of his circumstances. He saw it so clearly in her gentle words and touch. And he hated that she thought she owed him something.

Samuel pulled his hand out from under hers and looked her straight in the face. "You don't owe me anything. You've paid it back in full." He'd been rescued and was alive. He would ask no more of her.

Samuel pulled on his shirt and slowly stood. No more talking. He couldn't take it anymore. He knew what needed to be done and he'd better do it before he changed his mind. "Thank you both for coming for me," he spoke loudly. Haming turned and walked over to the fire.

Runa stood. "I had to."

"I don't want to keep you any longer."

Runa reached out a hand, but Samuel backed away. She dropped it. "You still have a room in my house. Come back and..."

"I'm not going back to Helgen," Samuel said firmly. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Haming was right. He loved her and he had to let her go.

"Samuel..." Runa pleaded.

"No. I've made a decision. It's time I moved on."

Haming picked up a knapsack from the ground and handed it to Samuel. "Take this. You'll need it. There's some coin and food."

Samuel nodded. "Thank you."

Haming then unstrapped his bow and quiver and held them out to him. "You'll need to protect yourself."

Samuel held his hand up. "I don't need..."

"With the Thieves Guild after you? You need them. Take them."

Samuel reluctantly accepted them. He strapped the bow and quiver on, then hefted the knapsack over his shoulder. He took a deep breath, then looked at Runa. "Good-bye." He hurt more saying good-bye to her now than he had when she'd left the orphanage.

"Please, if you're ever near Helgen again, please come by," Runa insisted.

Samuel nodded, but he didn't plan to be in Helgen in a million years. He took one last look into those chestnut eyes that so stirred his soul and turned, walking brusquely away. He couldn't trust himself to look back.

But he didn't walk aimlessly. He knew exactly where he was going. His Guildmaster had taken something from him and come hell or high water, he _would_ get it back.


	9. Epilogue

Samuel leaned against a support pillar under the porch of a store, a hood pulled far over his face. He was clean shaven now, but someone might still recognize him. He'd avoided the inn. He had no idea who ran it now but he couldn't chance it being one of Brynjolf's crew. He didn't really want to be here in Helgen. He'd spent most of the last year in Haafingar and Hjalmarch, ferrying letters back and forth between the provinces. He had gotten a job as a courier. It was simple and easy and best of all it kept him on the move, a good way to keep hidden.

But his latest job had been taking a letter to Helgen. He'd almost refused the job, but then decided he wouldn't be a coward. He'd thought of her all the way to Helgen, wondering if he should go and see her. She'd said if he was ever in Helgen...

She hadn't been at Ely's. He hadn't actually gone up to the door; he'd asked in the town about her. She was married to the hunter, he was told, and lived with him now. Samuel had made his way to Haming's home and now he stood across from it unsure what to do.

Samuel's hand unconsciously rubbed the front of his shirt near the neck. The only thing he had to remember her hung hidden there. It had been dangerous, but he had found Brynjolf on his way back from digging up the platter. He'd been terrified as he sneaked up on the Guildmaster asleep at a fire. Actually, he mused, perhaps Brynjolf would have been proud. His pick had managed to steal even from him. Whatever Brynjolf felt, it didn't matter to Samuel. He had only retrieved what he'd wanted and run. Samuel continued to feel the ruby ring under his shirt. His very last thieving. He just hadn't been able to think of Brynjolf selling it.

The door to Haming's house opened. Samuel's hand froze. There she was, hair pulled back as usual. But her belly―it was full and round. Samuel swallowed. He debated walking towards her. She was glancing up and down the street. Suddenly she waved. He straightened. She saw him. She wanted to talk to him. She ran down the stairs...but not his direction. He followed her with his eyes. Then he saw the hunter. She ran into his arms. Haming smiled at her, kissed her and then put his hand tenderly on her belly.

Samuel turned away and walked back into the city, heading to the courier stand for his next letter. He would not see her. He had let her go. He had to. He loved her. He'd thought a lot over the months of what she'd said to him and she was right. His love had been selfish. Maybe if he would have had a mother he would have known real love, but he'd had only Grelod, a woman who defied love. And Brynjolf certainly hadn't made love a part of the Guild.

When he'd stolen the ring back, he'd run and then he'd stopped by a stream to wash it and stare at it. It meant her to him. It was beautiful and intricate, just like her. And he'd determined then and there to live out her words. To not let Grelod or the Guild win. From that day forward, he'd silenced Grelod and Brynjolf forever. He'd make his own way in the world.

"Based in Haafingar and Hjalmarch," he reported when he found the courier stand.

"Name," the tired old man behind the stand mechanically asked as he thumbed through a stack of letters.

"Sam...White-Heart."

"White-Heart. Strange name. Where you from?" The man was looking at him now.

"Far away."

The old man raised his eyebrows, then looked down at the letters, not pressing him. "Got one for Morthal." He handed it over to Samuel along with some coins.

Samuel turned to leave.

"Don't know about White-Heart, but you look a bit familiar. Ever been here before?"

Samuel glanced back. "Once."

"Business brought you here."

Samuel shook his head.

"What then?"

Samuel smiled softly, then turned and walked away. He heard the old man grumbling about "people these days." He passed by a couple walking aimlessly, oblivious to anyone but themselves, one a tall hunter, the other a beauty with chestnut eyes. He looked away from them as he went on. Love had brought him here...and love kept him away.

He glanced back when he'd moved far enough ahead not be noticed. She still had the same gait. He put his hand to his shirt and touched the ring. He still loved her, always would. But he knew things were exactly as they were meant to be. He turned and marched through Helgen, then out its gates. He took a deep breath at the vastness of Skyrim before him. He had his own life now. The past no longer bound him. He would make his own destiny.

He looked down at the bulky letter in his hand, set it in his knapsack and strode into the wilds, ready to face any adventure the world saw fit to thrust in his path.


End file.
